The album was released in the UK earlier this month as a free cover disk with Classic Rock Magazine and the retail version contained three more tracks. In addition, the iTunes version also contains a 14th track, a live version called “Golden Opportunity.”

“When Mott The Hoople announced they were reforming for a week’s worth of shows at the Hammersmith Odeon I was asked that I participate in some capacity. They’ve always been my favourite band and it’s nice to see the rest of the rock world finally catch up and give them their due.” Joe Elliott says.

In addition to Joe Elliott (Vocals/Guitar/Keyboards), the band featured The Quireboys’ Paul Guerin (Guitar), Guy Griffin (Guitar), Keith Weir (keyboards) and Phil Martini (drums) and bassist Ronnie Garrity (Raw Glory).

Their first single “England Rocks” has jumped from 44 to 31 on the Mediabase Classic Rock 7-day chart.

DOWN N’ OUTZ will be performing at the High Voltage Festival’s main stage at Victoria Park, London on Sunday the 25th July 2010.

Memorable tracks: “England Rocks”

40 Below landed significant airplay and was featured on Headbangers Ball with one of two singles, “Self Medicate”. The other, being “Taxi Cab Confession” which by it self, screams such a passion for groovy, rhythmic Rock. Drummer Carlos Aguilar and Bassist Hector Graziani execute this groove lock flawlessly.

Overall, this record just blew my mind. 40 Below has proved with this record that they are much more than a “Nu Metal” band. Track 3, “Rain” is in my opinion, the best song on the record which includes significant musicianship, tasteful rhythmic technicality, heavy metal guitars, anthemic sing-a-longable choruses, and bass grooves straight outta hell.

Much more mellow than their prior albums, Day and Age is no less grand in its sonic staging. The Killers’ trademark pomp and circumstance is ever-present, but in a much more quiet way than on previous albums. The band takes some risks this time around, incorporating different sounds from around the world into their repertoire. While the experimentation is interesting, a lot of these songs come off as some of the weaker efforts on the album. Even at their most experimental, they still sound like The Killers, just in a diluted form. Not that it’s bad, it’s just different. “I Can’t Stay” has a very lounge-vibe to it, while “Joy Ride” replicates ’70s disco with saxophone rides inserted into the churning funk-flavored hooks.

Thematically, survival stories permeate Day and Age. The disc’s crashing opener, “Losing Touch” tells a tale of corruption, fear and redemption. Flowers’ emotionally intense vocals and delivery fully drives the heart of these stories home. It’s the ornate, yet down-to-earth lyrical style of Flowers’ lyrics and vocals that is just as integral a part of The Killers signature sound as Dave Keuning’s warm, clean tone.

While musically, the experimental nature of Day & Age makes it slightly uneven, the album’s ace in the hole is its lyrics. Written about his parents, the poignant “A Dustland Fairy Tale” is exemplary of Flowers’ lyrical skill. Full of fleeting glimpses of vivid imagery, it’s easily one of the standout tracks on Day and Age, building from a whisper into a tour de force modern-day fable of intermingled cynicism and hope.

Further underlining Flowers’ skill as a lyricist, “This Is Your Life” may be a subtle allusion to Lou Reed’s “Take a Walk on the Wild Side,” dropping the names of characters like “Candy” and “Jackie” (which also appear in Reed’s classic) into a sordid tale of a search for self-identity in the midst of a undesirable situation. Musically, the track features The Killers at their experimental best, meshing a neo-”Lion Sleeps Tonight” chant with a repeating harpsichord riff against a steady backdrop of a pounding rhythm section provided by bassist Mark Stoermer and drummer Ronnie Vannucci.

Back-to-back tracks “Human” and “Spaceman” give off a Bowie-esque Space Odyssey vibe. The disc’s lead single,”Human”, runs rampant with The Killers’ stock-in-trade pulsing synth — Retro, but not quite, ’80s dance meshed with 21st century emo rock. The dance-feel of the track goes surprisingly well with its lyrical ponderings on life and death — be it a walk into the light, a treatise on rebirth, or just contemplating life itself in a one-sided conversation with a higher power. The end result comes across as with the awesome, life-affirming power of a pot smoker with a poet’s heart who just discovered the wonder of glow-sticks a rave. It’s trippy, fun, yet refreshingly deep.

While prior albums in The Killers catalog initially reach out and grab you, many of the tracks on Day and Age take a while to grow on you. Once they do, however, they plant themselves in your brain with a number of little touches that are finally detected after multiple spins.

Beautifully crafted with a padded, “puffy” hardback cover and glossy, full-color pages, Kat’s personal aesthetic is present even in the meticulous design of High Voltage Tattoo. Despite being only 176 pages, the oversized, 8″ x 10″ layout packs a lot of information in this sturdy tome.

One part autobiography, Kat gives an overview of her life in both the written and pictorial sense, showcasing photos from her childhood and her life as told by her tattoos and what they mean to her. Fans looking for her to rehash gory details of her love life or any behind-the-scenes drama that went on during her stint on Miami Ink will be disappointed as there is little – if any – in the way of trash talking in these chapters.

Rather, the book focuses on the positive and is much more of a love letter to tattooing and the doors her art has opened for Ms. Von Drachenberg. Details on the tools of the trade, the science behind tattoo guns, and tidbits of information on inks and shading the perfect tattoo are related in conversational form. The information provided is relatively detailed without being overly technical. It achieves the aim of giving those outside the artist portion of the tattoo community enough information to edify them and to whet their appetite should they decide to delve further into the art on their own. It’s conversational enough to hold the reader’s attention, yet won’t overwhelm them with the minutia of details that an established tattoo artist would already be well-versed in.

The main focus of the book is undoubtedly the art, artistry, and artists showcased in High Voltage Tattoo and speaks to any tattoo aficionado regardless of how many hours they’ve spent under the (tattoo) gun — or with one in their hand. Kat cites her influences and mentors in the tattoo world with glowing praise for their work, giving the reader a glimpse at the various styles offered by other artists whose sense of aesthetics may also appeal to them. She uses her own star power to increase the visibility of those who helped her to her lofty status in the tattoo community and to give props to the current crop of artists who work out of her shop – both on camera and off.

While other artists have a solid representation in the book, High Voltage’s main visuals stems from its gorgeous layout, very much in keeping with Kat Von D’s intermingled love of music (from Beethoven to H.I.M. and beyond!) and the richly elegant style of baroque art. Segments of the book are broken down into chapters named for many an AC/DC song.

Kat also devotes a segment of the book to dispelling the myths surrounding tattoos. (No, you will not bleed more if you’re drunk when you get a tattoo. But yes, yes, yes, it is very bad form to show up sauced to your session. Let’s face it. Not many artists want to be covered with a quart of vom as they’re plying their trade in a sterile environment!)

Hundreds of Kat’s photorealistic portrait tattoos and original concepts jump off the page in both vivid color and living black and grey. Photos of the numerous celebrities she has tattooed stand alongside everyday people who have all been fortunate enough to bear the brand of Ms. Von D’s handiwork. She recounts in detail, the inspiration behind these tattoos as well as letting their recipients share their thoughts on their experience from creation to healing from both a physical and emotional standpoint.

Tattoos are more than just expression. It’s almost like therapy for some people. No longer relegated to the underground, the increased understanding of how liberating tattoos can be and how much skill goes into these portable works of art is helping to break down long-held taboos. With High Voltage Tattoo, Kat Von D continues her role in bringing the art of tattooing into a more easily accessible light to the masses, educating them while holding them spellbound with her considerable talents and charm.

Tallying in at an estimated $13 million to produce over a 15-year period, Guns N’ Roses’ first album since 1993’s “The Spaghetti Incident?” isn’t so much a Guns N’ Roses album as it is Axl’s long-awaited solo disc. It’s also been the longest-running gag in the rock/metal genre owed to its mythical status as “the most expensive album never made.”

Now that Chinese Democracy is finally here, it’s up to fans to debate whether the album lives up to 15 years of hype and if it was really worth the wait. With nearly two decades in the making, it would be easy to assume that Chinese Democracy would be one big ball of amazing from start to finish, the culmination of years of meticulous effort and perfectionism. As much as I wanted that whacky rapscallion Axl to prove the naysayers wrong, to insist that Chinese Democracy is anything more than just your average rock album would be like playing a game of The Emperor’s New Clothes, pretending it’s something it’s not. Don’t get me wrong. Chinese Democracy doesn’t suck, but it’s not the Holy Grail of rock. Not even close.

If the album was the same exact disc you hold now in 2008, Chinese Democracy would have been revolutionary if it was released when it was originally slated in 1994 or ‘95. It would have provided the bands that dominated the ’80s with a legitimate spot next to the Nirvanas and Nine Inch Nails who set the pace for the latter half of the ’90s. Axl would have been ahead of his time, meshing industrial clanging alongside hip-hop and ’70s funk on tracks like “If the World” and the flamenco-infused “Sorry.”

All “could haves,” “would haves,” and “should haves” aside, that was then and this is now. In 2008, when the music world has come full-circle, embracing the so many comeback kids of the ’80s, Chinese Democracy comes across as your average album. There are no risks to be taken. Rather, Axl takes a lot of elements from the old GNR formula, updating them slightly for the new millennium.

All of the usual Axl Rose vocal tricks are on full display, splayed out like a peacock’s feathers: The ominous lower register that sounds like a threatening, whispered growl. The aforementioned yowl that usually bookends a given song. The nasal self-bantering between verses. The blues-metal falsetto. They’re all here.

Brace yourself for even more déjà vu. Even some of the songs sound strangely familiar. “Street Of Dreams” desperately attempts to be “November Rain” Version 2.0. Even one of the power-chording riffs contains the exact same notes and tone as the major riff in “November Rain” (and possibly “Paradise City”). You’ll know it when you hear it… Again

The similarities are uncanny from the orchestral string arrangements to Dizzy Reed at the keys to Axl employing the same vocal techniques and song structure as GNR’s 1991 magnum opus. Only “Street of Dreams” isn’t nearly as majestic as “November Rain.” Instead, it gives the impression that Axl went digging through the kitty litter box, found, and then dusted off the old Guns N’ Roses song manual and cobbled this bastard together. That said, even Shakespeare hacked himself, rehashing all those themes of mistaken identity and chicks dressing in drag. Chin up, Axl!

Adding to the litany of sounds that invoke a sense of Groundhog Day, “Madagascar” samples Cool Hand Luke yet again. This time, that familiar sound byte from “Civil War” stands alongside Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. These samples seem a bit gratuitous, taking away more from the song than contributing to it. Aside from these distractions, “Madagascar” is an otherwise solid track, even if it does feel a bit bloated.

Chinese Democracy’s average status is further reinforced by its mixed bag of songs. A few reach out and grab you. Others still don’t grab as much as they grow on you. And there are a few songs that just plain stink on ice.

As for the good: An industrial cacophony of clanging that strings together a melodic chorus with pulsating strobes of sound, “Shackler’s Revenge” heavily channels Marilyn Manson. A pissed-off open letter to anyone and everyone who doubted Axl Rose, it’s not entirely clear if this is directed towards ex-bandmates, former lovers, or just Axl farting in the general direction of anyone who happens to be within a 500 mile radius.

“Better” is another of the standout tracks on the song. Axl is lyrically lucid, almost poetic as a tragic lover burnt by a flame and subsequently forged into something stronger, angrier, and more wizened by this personal holocaust. He shrieks, spits, and squawks — swinging from an almost innocent vocal that “reminds me of childhood memories” on the bridge before serving up a slab of angst-riddled emo in the way only Axl Rose can deliver.

Emblematic of the songs that fall somewhere the middle is “Catcher in the Rye.” Musically, the track is dynamic. It’s an emotional rollercoaster whose sound structure is the equivalent of swapping Xanax for Speed and then switching over to Percoset. Lyrically, however, “Catcher in the Rye” feels rather obtuse. Although he sings every word clearly, Axl is far from being J.D. Salinger as a wordsmith. The thoughts expressed aren’t very coheren and feel like stand-alone notepad scribblings of well-worded randomness loosely strung together into a song.

For all the good and mediocre moments provided, Chinese Democracy offers up some real clunkers, too. Enter “Scraped,” as a shining example of what is bad about the album. Contained within the word “Scraped” are four letters that accurately sum it up: “crap.” Axl scream-sings his way through an intro that’s almost as unlistenable as it is wordless. Musically, it rehashes some of vintage GNR’s best licks in a mediocre impersonation of the original.

None of this is an affront to the cadre of guitarists on Chinese Democracy lined up to simulate Slash. Of the revolving cast of axemen, Buckethead is perhaps the best known, having accompanied Axl’s 2002 incarnation of GNR on the ill-fated (and riot-inducing) tour in support of Chinese Democracy’s rumored release.

Although Buckethead may be the most easily recognizable name, the album’s liner notes list no less than three guitarists (sometimes more) contributing to each song. Included in this illustrious turnstile are NIN’s Robin Finck, Paul Tobias, Richard Fortus, and Ron “Bumblefoot” Thal. Through the miracle of ProTools, post-production, and a combination of the electric-organic pre-exiting skills of the musicians on deck, the guitar sound on Chinese Democracy comes close to replicating that of Slash.

Given the staggering amount of guitarists listed on each track, it’s a mystery as to whose parts begins and ends where. Was there a deliberate attempt to stitch together some sort of a sonic Slash-like Frankenstein? It’s hard to tell for certain, but it sure sounds that way.

While Chinese Democracy doesn’t live up to its mythic proportions and 15 years of hype, it’s still a good album. It’s not in the same category as Appetite For Destruction, but then again, very few albums are. What made Appetite one of the greatest rock albums of all time was that you could hear a young, talented band creating a brutally raw sound that kicked you in the nuts right out of the gate and kept assaulting your ‘nads for the duration of the album.

As for Chinese Democracy, well…Taking 15 years between albums doesn’t hit the reset button and turn back the clock, magically transforming you into a brand new band. It just creates an aura of hype that you cannot possibly live up to. Then again, it also generates a lot of curiosity resulting in tons of people buying an album. Maybe Axl does get the last laugh after all.

Upon further listening, the former Alecia Moore’s fifth disc is rather appropriately named. Pink’s self-reflection on Funhouse morphs into self-refraction. The result is like gazing into a distorting funhouse mirror. Depending on the angle, these reflections can be either humorous or spilling over with enough raw emotion to make the one standing before the mirror cringe or break down and cry regarding what stands before them..

The bulk of the disk, however, is pure Pink — for better or worse. The perennial pop-rock chameleon showcases her many mood swings on what could be dubbed her “divorce album.” She (rightfully) has no shame in letting it all hang out. Then again, when has Pink had any trouble with that? One of the things so likeable about Pink is her immature, tomboy sense of humor offset by the ability to hit a nerve with personal treatises on depression and the state of the world. This time, it’s a lot more personal, chronicling her (relatively amicable) break up with Hart, who actually appears in the video for “So What,” the album’s lead single.

Perhaps the ultimate break-up anthem, “So What” encompasses the myriad of feelings involved in the dissolution of an important relationship. Setting a deceptively upbeat tone for the album’s somewhat gloomy overtones, the track charts a course through the giddy, cocky sense of freedom that gives way to putting on a show for the benefit of an ex. In spite of its catchy, swaggering bounce, Funhouse’s lead single belies the twinge of sorrowful regret that finds itself suppressed once again behind the rollicking chorus.

In the same vein, “Bad Influence” is an upbeat ass-kicking track that recalls the shit-stirring bar antics of “U + Ur Hand” from Pink’s previous album, I’m Not Dead. For all its vodka-swilling bravado, “Bad Influence” is sprinkled with what could be construed as a cry for help, all of this partying masking the tears of a clown. Butch Walker received a co-writing credit on “Bad Influence,” easily one of the most fun tracks on Funhouse. The other co-Walker penned entry on the disc, “Mean” traipses into country territory. As Pink laments the disintegration of kindness in her relationship, her voice transforms into a hybrid of country twang and bluesily reminiscing Janis Joplin on “Me and Bobby McGee.”

“Sober,” features another repeat co-collaborator in pop songsmith (and newest American Idol judge), Kara DioGuardia. The subtly eerie backing vocals and string arrangements provide contrast on this heavy, rock track. Brash power chords pack a punch alongside dark lyrics that, once again, portray an aura of searching for something to cling to.

Walker and DioGuardia aren’t the only familiar names to appear on Funhouse. Billy Mann and No Doubt’s Tony Kanal also chime in on writing and production duties throughout.

The disc’s title track delves into funk territory with a cool bass riff running through the danceable track. On “Funhouse,” however, it’s not just the roof that’s on fire, but rather the whole house as Pink goes all Waiting to Exhale, intending to “burn this fucker down,” along with the memories of all that went on in her former love nest.

Many of the songs on Funhouse, while undoubtedly Top 40 confection in terms of structure and instrumentation, go much deeper than your typical pop pablum. One of the most poignant of these confessionals, “It’s All Your Fault” overflows with a sense of desperation that teeters on suicidal. Lyrics like, “I hold my breath / Because you were perfect /… I wish you could feel as bad as I do” underscore all of the beautiful moments of a defunct relationship as they flash before your eyes — more of a painful, taunting slap in the face than a fond memory to cherish. On the flipside, Funhouse’s closer, “Glitter in the Air,” offers an appreciative and accepting glimpse at these fleeting moments. Set against a sparse piano backdrop, “Glitter In The Air” interweaves sparkling metaphor with true life experience.

One of the most powerful female rock voices currently on the scene, on Funhouse, Pink survives what may be her most emotional chapter yet. With her sense of humor intact and displaying a graceful dignity, you can’t help but root for her to get through it and come out on top.

Slipknot stayed in the top slot for two weeks, beating out rapper The Game’s highly anticipated LAX in a well-publicized battle with metal emerging victorious.

One of the few still-successful acts of the mid- to-late ’90s “nu metal” scene, Slipknot’s last full-length album, Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses, met with critical praise but wasn’t as well-received by fans. Considered to have “gone soft” on their last outing, Slipknot’s previous offering could hardly have been mistaken for a Kenny G album. Nevertheless, fans were disappointed with tracks like the two-part ballad, “Vermillion”, and what sounded like too many cast-offs from Corey Taylor’s side project, Stone Sour. The general consensus spoke of a detectable lack of unity among band members who were knee-deep in solo projects or personal problems, so much so that The Subliminal Verses didn’t really feel like the ‘Knot fans knew and loved.

Then again, with nine guys in the band, let’s see you try staying on the same page as the other eight.

Heralded as a return to form by die-hard maggots, the Slipknot’s fourth studio album All Hope Is Gone showcases and improves upon their distinctive sound. They haven’t dropped the nu-metal banner, but rather, updated the formula.

The dual-guitar arrangements by Jim Root and Mick Thompson (numbers 4 and 9, respectively) — are a combination of precision and distortion. While a two-headed guitar monster isn’t so much of an anomaly amongst many bands, having two percussionists is. Slipknot boasts two drummers with the legendary Joey Jordison commanding the drum throne and custom percussionist Chris Fehn rounding out the band’s sound. Sid Wilson — alias, DJ Starscream — contributes the signature samples and scratches that are a major fixture of Slipknot’s sound. You know a Sid sample when you hear it.

All of these elements, plus the efforts contributed by the rest of the band’s members, culminate in what fans and critics are recognizing as Slipknot’s best album yet. Slipknot once again is operating as a finely tuned, masked machine and all is (not) right with the world!

True to its title, All Hope is Gone is the sonic equivalent of the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Despair, and (grudging, vengeance-tinged) Acceptance — each song representing one or more of these conditions.

The disc’s intro “.execute” builds the anticipation with a cacophony of sounds building to a crescendo and bursting forth into “Gematria (The Killing Name)”. Right out of the gate, Slipknot shows their experimental direction with the track’s shifts in sound and atmosphere. It’s not a far cry from early Slipknot, but there is definite growth and musical maturity throughout.

“Psychosocial” is a weird juxtaposition of thrash riffs, melody, and atmospheric samples — perhaps one of the heaviest tracks on the album. Following in a similar, uber-heavy vein, “Butcher’s Hook” is overrun with growling vocals (that, admittedly, become somewhat tedious after awhile) on the verses, but saves itself from becoming too one-note with a much more melodic vocal style inter-spliced on the chorus.

“Snuff,” the disc’s ballad, is much more epic and ambitious in scope than any other attempt at a Slipknot “love song” (Perish the thought!) to date. Corey Taylor gets an opportunity to showcase the more melodic, emotive side of his vocal abilities, usually reserved for Stone Sour outtings. Joey Jordison, usually known for his powerhouse drumming still manages to keep his distinctive style, even when he’s out of his natural habitat.

Packed with unexpected flourishes, All Hope Is Gone finds itself shot through with moments that burrow inside the sonic consciousness of fans — like the stormtrooper’s march of drumbeats on a breakdown in “Sulpher” and the winding groove “Gehenna” is built around.

In light of the recent economic downturn, the title track on All Hope is Gone seems oddly prophetic. With lines like “The Bill of Rights is a bill of sale / What will you do when the war is over? / What will you do when your systems fail”, vocalist and chief lyricist Corey Taylor paints a bleak picture of a world hinging on collapse

Like a lot of bands who have stood the test of time, Slipknot has shown growth with a willingness for experimentation while still bearing in mind what brought them to the dance in the first place.

Receiving a co-writing credit on the book is rock journalist, Ian Gittins, assisting in the present-day interviews of figures mentioned in Sixx’s diaries. Chosen for his ability to wring the brutal truth out of his subjects, Gittins manages to pull some choice written-sound bytes from members of Motley Crue, Evangelist Denise Williams (formerly known as Vanity, Sixx’s one-time girlfriend), members of Nikki’s family, and other fixtures in his life during that turbulent year. Providing a well-rounded portrait, these people come clean with intriguing observations and frustrations with the person they knew 20 years ago.

Photographer and graphic artist Paul Brown is responsible for the eye-catching layout of the book. Rendered in high-gloss black, white, and red in a bold, graphic-intensive “splatter” style, the layout compliments the book nicely and provides a visual medium to display the random thoughts, scraps, interviews, and song lyrics scattered throughout.

The real meat-and-potatoes of the book, however, are Sixx’s diaries themselves. He captures himself at his best and his worst, as well as the double-edged sword of life on the road. An exercise in empathy, at times, you find yourself alternately rooting for him to beat his demons into submission and shaking your head as he slides back into deadly habits at various points throughout the book.

While the Nikki Sixx of 20 years ago comes off as something of a dick at times, he’s undoubtedly charismatic and possessed of a surprising lucidity in his thoughts — even while high as a kite. The Nikki Sixx of 1987 is the kind of guy you would want to hang out with, but only with extreme caution. On several occasions in the diaries, Sixx gives a play-by-play after shooting up, jotting down his drug-addled thoughts and offering the reader insight into the mind of an addict.

Contrasted with the sober Sixx of 2007 (who also contributes running commentary on his past exploits), it’s easy to see what a difference two decades make in terms of maturity and strength of character. A less pretentious version of the rockstar/humanitarian a la Bono, Sixx has found a mission in helping others by spilling his guts and ripping off the bandages of a painful period in his life in a down-to-earth, and easily accessible manner. Sixx certainly isn’t vying for sainthood, but he’s very real, raw, charismatic, and genuinely likeable.

Although it feels like it could have been written just yesterday, bearing in mind Sixx’s diary entries date back to 1987, The Heroin Diaries as a time capsule offers a glimpse back into the latter half of “The Me Decade.” Sixx and his cohorts give insight into life as a high-profile outsider during that period, bucking the Regan-era’s throwback to conservative values and heading up a faction bent on shocking the complacency out of America and the world.

Also touched upon is the rampant use of cocaine as the era’s drug of choice. Cocaine use comes across as almost the norm, not just among the rock n’ roll set, but even the straight-laced suits that surround the band. Nearly everyone in the book sniffs some snow. Whereas heroin is frowned upon, in this snapshot of 1987, cocaine use is treated with all the casualness of lighting a cigarette. The author’s bouts of despair also underscore the ’80s as the decade before Prozac and therapeutic mood-altering prescription drugs were widely accepted in treating depression.

Brought to life once again, are the ordeals of Sixx’s attempts to clean up, made all the more difficult not just by a wavering will and depression, but by relentless drug dealers unwilling to let a steady source of income go. The Heroin Diaries subtly hints at the behaviors of unspoken cries for help under the guise of merriment. Suddenly drunk/drugged dialing and room hopping don’t seem as innocent.

This book should be required reading for high school students, providing an educational and realistic portrait of drug abuse. On one hand, The Heroin Diaries shows what is so attractive about drugs. In a telling passage taken from his diaries, Sixx ponders “Heroes - why do we look up to them? Is it their music or their lifestyle? I’m 29 years old, they say you grow outta loving rock ‘n’ roll but it’s a huge part of me. It feels like music raised me, adopted me, saved my life.” With Sixx’s own admissions of a troubled childhood and feelings of abandonment peppering the text throughout, the book gives deeper evidence of addiction stemming from more than “wanting to be like the cool kids.” Loneliness, boredom, and depression — undiagnosed or otherwise — factor into an equation that proves Nancy Reagan’s solution to “Just Say NO!” isn’t as simple or effective as you may like to believe. In doing so, the book deglamourizes drug use and gives great detail as to what happens mentally and physically as a result of addiction, the physical affects of shooting up and mixing drugs, and the brutality of eventual withdrawal.

The paperback version of The Heroin Diaries will be released on October 28, 2008. Nikki Sixx will be donating 25% of its proceeds to his charity, Running Wild in the Night, in conjunction with Covenant House, helping to keep runaway and abused kids off the streets.

Although he may not have a massive mainstream reputation, Butch Walker is something of a behind-the-scenes legend in the world of rock. He’s an underground success story whose tremendous body of work as a producer and “an artist’s artist” speaks for itself.

Strip mining the pop element from Aquanet-ed ’80s metal, Butch has successfully parlayed his past life with C-list glam rockers Southgang into the contemporary power-pop scene on his own solo material and the nearly two dozen albums he’s produced for the likes of Pink, Fallout Boy, and others.

Although Butch Walker is probably one of the most prolific songwriters and producers today, his efforts have been hit or miss. With former group Marvelous 3 and his excellent first solo disc, Left of Self-Centered, Walker developed a reputation as the likeable clown prince of pop-rock. His work took a turn for the serious with his second album, Letters and subsequent projects. While his style has always been steeped in self-effacing emo, lately Butch Walker’s songs have been hitting the Xanax with a less bouncy version of his signature stamp imprinted upon them. Now more dirge than ditty, his intelligent yet conversational lyrical style is still there, but with a distinct absence of plucky candy-coating on his pop rocks anymore.

His latest project, 1969, continues in this vein. Although a collaboration, the resulting album Maya is punctuated by a number of Butch Walker hallmarks. Atmospheric interludes fill the spaces between tracks and unexpected instrumental flourishes turn up on the material, packing a surprise punch. “Ready to Explode”, perhaps the most upbeat track on Maya, is a marriage of steadily thumping piano and guitar while other pieces, such as “Wednesday” with its frenetic pace and irregular breakdowns scattered throughout, are standard Butch fare.

Also present and accounted for is the requisite cover song, a holdover from Butch’s days with Marvelous 3 that has spilled into his solo career and now his 1969 experiment. This time, the redux in question is a saucy revamp of James’ “Laid” which captures the accessible majesty of sexually inexperienced prom night grinding — memorable, fun, and dripping with a surprising, sexually charged sweetness accentuated by Chislett’s swirling guitar riffs.

Considering the pop-rock flavoring with a generous side of emo, Michael Guy Chislett is a natural match with his background as guitarist for The Academy Is… serving as an outstanding reference on his resume. While much of the song-structure is the typical fare rabid Butch fans have come to expect, Chislett’s simple, yet effective guitar riffs add a refreshing new element to these soundscapes. Reminiscent at times of U2’s The Edge, Chislett’s style conveys emotion without being overtly flashy. Singular-sounding notes give way to punches of electric chords that chime in at precisely the right moments.

While common threads are woven throughout each of the songs on the album, the songs blur into each other with little distinguishing one from the other. Themes of lost love and disappointment with a failed system crop up frequently on the album with Walker’s voice barely reaching above a morose yet melodic whisper. Very few tracks (the solid block of “Wednesday,” “Alex Where Are You,” and “Ready to Expode”) deliver a sense of urgency, the rest churning in ambiently vacuous ether, which truth be told, isn’t entirely unpleasant.

Although Butch Walker is still a highly competent songsmith and a tremendous lyricist and musician with his ample talents on full display, 1969 and Maya still come up short. While the material on Maya is very good, it’s not really his best work.

Don’t get me wrong, Butch’s latest collaboration is far from terrible. The man deserves a lot credit for taking the bull by the horns and releasing his own albums independently, bucking the major label system and offering an intelligent alternative. Maya is not without its shining moments, but it’s still more of the same niche that Walker has wedged himself into on his last few records rather than something completely different, which is usually what a side project should afford.

At the very least, while it’s not an artistic stretch, Butch deserves credit for staying true to how he feels and how he feels his music should sound. As a beacon for artistic creative control, Walker achieves at least one aim with 1969 and Maya. From a fan standpoint, however, here’s hoping Butch redeems himself with a little more variety on his forthcoming solo release, Sycamore Meadows, due later this year.

Vocalist Matt Holt’s demonic screams are best described as coming straight out of satins throat, but don’t let the demon fool you, Holt counter-acts the dark side with very beautiful melodies that shine hope at the end of darkness.

Nothingface landed their break with a song featured on the Freddy vs Jason movie soundtrack called “Ether,” which has a great combination by guitarist Tom Maxwell (Hellyeah) of heavy and melodic guitar riffing, tied with sing-a-longable vocal melodies from Holt. Ether, was a great song for commercial success, unlike the rest of the record in which commercial airwaves would likely disregard due to pure, demonic madness. HERE, is where the band has been cast away commercially due to the chaotic realm of the Death Metal era. Likely,  “I wish I was a Communist” and “Murder is Masterbation” carry some of the strongest aspects of brutality I’ve ever heard. ever.

In 2004, Nothingface parted ways citing musical differences and label troubles. More recently, in 2005 they released a 2 song demo and played as an opening act for Disturbed in 2006. Afterwards, the band was put on hold due to Guitarist Tom Maxwells’ involvement with Hellyeah, but signs to a new album look quite promising.