Assjack is the metalcore/hellbilly outfit led by the broken heart of Hank Williams III. Hank III performed every instrument on Assjack himself, utilizing the talents of Gary Lindsey’s guttural depth to complement the roaring drum work and rooster-tail guitar speed flinging out of Hank III’s amplifiers like buckshot. In a hardcore sense, Assjack’s sound is noticeably polished, and understandably so, considering the band’s early beginnings as the third act in Hank III’s country performance. Yet the popularity of Assjack led to six “bootleg” albums no longer in production, along with a simultaneous outcry of love and hate from his dedicated fan base.

During his ongoing tour, Hank III divides his stage time, allotting 45-minute sets to his solo act, his “Damn” band, and Assjack. During the final set he hopes to reach out to his younger attendees, the drunks who are willing to stick around, and the folks who just want their full $20 out of the show. A feeling of confidence in his decision to work against the grain and a willingness to sidestep the desires of record executives is evident in Hank III’s dedication to hardcore mastery. There is, however, an emotion found in the press materials accompanying the release that suggests a sense of fear that he will ostracize the fans he values. Hank III wants to work among the infinite genres and outlets of musical experimentation, instead of cornering his image and sound into the Grand Ole Opry rhinestone-and-starch sound older members of his audience expect from the Hank Williams lineage.   

Assjack is the first fully authorized recording by the band, and they’ll begin a European tour soon, hitting metal-crazed countries like Belgium, Germany and Austria — all places where the group’s pummeling sound will be appreciated without association. A Dixieland guitar riff played high on the stem introduces “Redneck Ride,” before the instrumental drops into pure gore. Exposing the unspoken troubles which plague all areas of the country — even the South in this contemporary age — is a respectable aim for “Cocaine The White Devil,” while “Doin’ What I Want” will surely please the metal hearts, but certainly not our grandparents. Fortunately, they only need 45 minutes of Hank III before they’re ready to go home. By Will Tunstall

Lightning Dust is another beautiful chapter in Canadian collaborative efforts. Amber Webber and Joshua Wells’ musical roots lie in the consistently phenomenal Vancouver bands Black Mountain and Pink Mountaintops, but by adding uppers to the unswerving sadness they felt working with what both describe as “two of the saddest bands in Canada,” they’ve rendered their sophomore Lightning Dust album, Infinite Light, as a cosmic boogie based on imperishable love.

Album opener “Antonia Jane” emphasizes the fragile control Webber pours into her voice, with elements reminiscent of a very powerful young vocal artist who’s about to explode into power she didn’t know she could harness. “I Knew,” perhaps this album’s most valuable player, follows as a rural space race, opening with a sputnik satellite ping quickly morphing into gun-wielding dust bowl lyrics — and, much to my enjoyment, Lightning Dust incorporates a Fleetwood Mac chorus into the song. “Dreamer” is evidence of Webber’s desire to “explore her goth side,” using pounding string compositions and a slower vocal tempo, while on “The Times” a light hand drum owns the instrumentals as Lightning Dust transmit their ability to work pop enchantment into a collection both assorted and profoundly controlled.

Wells’ man-voice is heard on the classic duet “Honest Man,” but the magnetism of Infinite Light is found in the energetic electro-influenced tracks. By no means does this pull credit away from the power of the slower, darker pieces, which are very special. But perhaps they belong on another collection altogether. By Will Tunstall

There’s something to be said for distance — the way old memories seem sweeter, antique photographs look better, and dated music sounds cooler. And there’s a lot to be said (both good and bad) about 21st century versions of said nostalgia. No band I’ve heard in 2009 does dreamy fuzz-rock better than Olympia, WA, quartet Desolation Wilderness, whose sophomore album New Universe sounds like it’s transmitted through a few layers of cheesecloth and could perfectly soundtrack a hazy, sunny, melancholy day in the Pacific Northwest.

Opener “Venice Beach” has the jangly chords and reverb-drenched lyrics of a west coast My Morning Jacket, while “Boardwalk Theme” boasts crisp riffage that mingles with layers of noise, distortion, and a pleasantly loping bass line. “Moon Dreams” offers up more of the same gauzy power pop, while “Strange Cool Girl” has the feel of an ancient AM radio struggling to pick up a signal. But let its relaxed gait and gossamer guitars wash over your ears, and you’ll be transmitted to a more relaxing world in no time. “Slow Fade” picks up the Desolation Wilderness pace ever so slightly, while “Restless Hearts” offers up subtle touches of psychedelia. But get this deep into the album and it becomes clear that New Universe isn’t going to lead you into new musical wilds. Then again, there’s something to be said about the comfort of distance. Maybe being blissfully detached isn’t such a bad thing after all. –NM 

Interpol cops a lot of flak for continually churning out symphonic if mediocre post-punk, earning them favorable comparisons to Joy Division along with unfavorable ones to Coldplay. So when lead Interpol singer Paul Banks announced his intentions to release a solo album under the moniker Julian Plenti, music critics groaned, Interpol fans scratched their heads, and the rest of us stared blankly at the inexplicably bad album title Julian Plenti Is… Skyscraper. Yet Banks has produced a darkly intriguing record full of buzzsaw guitars, churning drums, and unexpected about-faces that stands up well to Interpol’s finest work.

The album kicks off with the icy, vaguely electro “Only If You Run,” segueing into the gritty if detached “Fun That We Have.” That track also features some nauseating instrumentation that’s quickly contrasted by the mournful and primitive piano-guitar-strings exercise “Skyscraper.” Banks as Plenti doesn’t alter his aloof lyrical delivery on the sparse indie rocker “Games For Days,” but he does explore baroque Euro-pop on “Madrid Song,” as well as showing a hint of emotion on “No Chance Survival.” Overall, Julian Plenti Is… Skyscraper is a bit of a perplexing album that proves Interpol isn’t a one-trick pony. But it also raises more questions about Paul Banks aka Julian Plenti than it may have set out to answer. –NM