Garbage

A complex assault of driving bass and techno-pop grooves run over the voice of female power. Music like this tells the truth you think. The truth's not necessarily in the lyrics, though they hold some as well. It's the hard grind of the beat coupled with the soft touch of Shirley Manson. She seems to be ranting about things, but her voice conveys such beauty, such toughness, that you begin to care about whatever's on her mind (sometimes you can't even understand her). This is Garbage. They don't fool around. They don't waste space either. Every song is crafted with such precision, and yet the pace varies every time. You get the full-on rush of "I Think I'm Paranoid," which features a guitar so fierce you think it's going to jump out of the speakers and strangle you. Then there's "Medication," where that same guitar takes a back seat to a cello. A lovely melody where a dance beat is straining to come forward, but is repressed by a voice and tone that could break your heart. When Garbage plays, you follow them on a rollar coaster ride that goes from up-tempo thrash down to the soft place where the tunes flow like tears. All of this is thrown into an electronic power-plant, and the result is music so complex, so refreshing, so rich, that every time you hear it you discover something new. Sophisticated, yet raw and wild in it's execution. This is Garbage.