Converge

CONVERGE
Petitioning the Empty Sky
When Forever Comes Crashing
(both Equal Vision)

There are crowded shows, sold-out shows, flagrantly oversold sold-out shows, and shows where you question the venue's commitment to letting the audience depart with all vital organs intact. Last October's Converge show at Graceland (currently El Corazon) unquestionably fell on the latter end of that scale, yet one can't help but think that every night of the Massachusetts metalcore pioneers' tour was similarly perilous. And as frustrating as the performance might've been for the shorter and scrawnier in attendance, it couldn't have been more appropriate; of all the emotions that the Converge discography inspires in their frothing cultist fan base, complacence and serenity log in approximately 10,000th and 10,001st.

On the heels of their latest acclaimed full-length, You Fail Me—a challenging complement to 2001 pinnacle Jane Doe that many superfan skeptics thought impossible—Equal Vision has smartly rereleased the now-quartet's previous two albums, 1997's Petitioning the Empty Sky and 1998's When Forever Comes Crashing. The dual reissue is more logical that you'd think; the two albums are indelibly linked for exhibiting the genre-twisting potential that the groundbreaking Jane and Fail fulfilled. Both discs are remastered, which should finally satiate the many who bitch about the originals' swampy, impenetrable production quality, courtesy of Brian McTernan and Mike West (Petitioning) and Today is the Day ringleader Steve Austin (Forever). Not only that, but each album contains bonus demos and CD-ROM add-ons. Not only that, but there's extended, nuanced slipcover/inner-sleeve artwork courtesy of vocalist Jacob Bannon and Isis frontman Aaron Turner. So basically, if you're a completist/techhead/artcore snob (i.e., the target demo), these reissues are absolutely essential.

I can live with my original, scratched-to-shit versions; the extra tracks aren't really the appeal here, merely roughshod versions of cuts from ensuing records. That said, you've gotta love Petitioning's new finale, a deliciously sloppy take of "Love as Arson" that implodes just before the five-minute mark when Bannon mumbles, "I hit myself in the head with the mike stand and I'm bleeding. Like a sieve." (Forever likewise finishes with an alternate take of Jane's frantic "Bitter and Then Some.") No, the real fun in revisiting late-'90s Converge is hearing the compositions evolve with increasing recklessness and, yes, sophistication. They still had soft spots for the occasional trad-hardcore breakdown or sing-along, but guitarist Kurt Ballou peppered even those with virulent, mathy squalls that predated a generation of imitators. Bannon is the ideal mad-dog mouthpiece for his Armageddon figures, screeching venomous bons motslike "Hallowed be who art in heaven, I refuse to call that fucker by name." The message of these reissues is clear: Congested as they may appear, there's always room in the black pews for new converts. ANDREW BONAZELLI

FANNYPACK
See You Next Tuesday
(Tommy Boy)

The formula here is simple enough: two self-styled N.Y.C. club Svengalis, Matt Goias and Fancy, with cartoonish dollar signs in their eyes create an "intensely stupid female fronted rap group . . . [singing] retarded dance floor bangers" (from their bio), a concept easily sold to Tommy Boy. Three girl vocalists recruited from hard-times early-'00s club scene later, and boom! Party kids loved the '03 semihits "Cameltoe" and "Hey Mami" and expected never to hear from them again. But See You Next Tuesday (correct abbreviation via Sex and the City) is an album of absolutely groomed, overproduced hip-hop-lite touching off every trend Beyoncé got two steps near over the past three years. And it's gooood. "Keep It Up" celebrates the fair winners of "Bring It On," cheerleading over sneak-squeaks, hand claps, and a marching band à la "Lose My Breath." Taking Alan Lomax porch recordings of square beats, blues harmonica, and tinny piano to the Brooklyn area code, "Seven One Eight" is pure Moby circa Play, only here, less is curiously more. The reefer-free Atlanta dark synth bass moves quick on "Feet and Hands," where lyrics about how Cat Hartwell, Jessibel Suthiwong, and Belinda Lovell "always want to punch people wearing Von Dutch" seem like the men behind the curtain getting snarky about their compliance in the near past. I mean, how can a band called FannyPack throw the first stone? Luckily, these self-destructive moments are few and fast among sophisticated big bass reggae ("Fire Fire"), snaky fake house-hop hybrids ("You Gotta Know"), and all manner of the near familiar. Once again, sinister intentions make perfect pop. Long live the laboratory! DAPHNE CARR

VARIOUS ARTISTS
Monika Force
(Monika)

VARIOUS ARTISTS
Camping
(Bpitch Control)

German women and IDM share a lot of the same stereotypes—that they're cold, harsh paragons of morality, obsessed with technology and efficiency, bred for the privacy of the home rather than public enjoyment. Neither is supposed to be any fun at all. Few people actually believe that crap, of course. But two new compilations, each celebrating eight years of an electronic music label run by a woman in Berlin, have a ball ripping those stereotypes to shreds anyway. In the video for Barbara Morgenstern's "We're All Gonna Fucking Die," included as a CD-ROM bonus track on the Monika imprint's Monika Force, the artist boogies, cartwheels, somersaults, and air-guitars to her stuttering clicks and cuts. "Look at me!" she seems to say. "I can be a silly girlie-girl and produce music that makes design students salivate! Screw you!"