Breakthroughs, Breakdowns, Brain Games All Around.

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Let's face it. The past few episodes of Dexter have represented trying times for our protagonist. Considering what he's been through--paranoia that the jig was up, letting go of his toys, abject disappointment at the identity of the apparent Ice Truck Killer, complications in his relationship with Rita--it's a wonder he hasn't completely cracked.

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"Shrink Wrap" opens in the proverbial "dark and stormy night," with Dexter and Jesus at a crime scene, playfully comparing blood splatters to Rorschach blots. The victim in this case is an obvious suicide, after all, so there's not a lot to investigate. It would be the most horrendous of cliches in lesser hands, but in the case of this episode, it's fitting. The night is there Dexter is most comfortable, and the events of recent episodes have signaled an oncoming storm.

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We're not talking a cloudburst here--the horizon is boiling ominously black, and by all indications, Dexter's Miami is potentially in the path of a hurricane of dark motives. And at the eye of the approaching storm is the inevitable showdown between Dexter and the Ice Truck Killer. The problem is, the winds are blowing from every direction imaginable.

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First, there's Deb's growing infatuation with Rudy, the doctor who fitted Tucci with crude prosthetics. She even consumnates her relationship with him, and in a post-orgasmic comment , he tells her she brings out "the animal inside" in him. Then there's Paul, Rita's abusive -ex, gradually entrenching himself as the dominant force in her life. In a particularly chilling scene, when he's playing with the kids, he bellows, "Here comes the monster!" Finally, there's LaGuerrta, battling the beauracracy of the LAPD. She knows from her unorthodox interviewing techniques that Perry cannot possibly the Ice Truck Killer. Still, the DA, sensing a PR opportunity, intends to bring the case to trial.

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All these threads are plot points that almost certainly will play significant roles in the final outcome of the season's run. But as tantalizing as they are, they serve as backdrops to the main thrust of "Shrink Wrap." Something about the suicide doesn't feel right to Dexter-- the victim was a prominent woman who seemed to have everything going for her, though she did suffer from depression. As he pokes a bit deeper, he discovers a pattern of suicides among high profile women who all were seeing the same shrink, one Dr. Meridian. And while the good doctor appears to be squeaky clean, he doesn't slip below Dexter's predatory radar. But, in accordance with Harry's Code, he has to know for certain that Dr. Meridian is a killer. To get the goods on Meridian, he goes undercover as a new patient.

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That Meridian is doomed is a given-- Dexter doesn't make mistakes when it comes to choosing his prey. The twist here is that the therapy sessions actually help Dexter in coming to grips with some of his deep-seeded issues. Through flashback sequences interspersed within the therapy sessions, we find Harry was a major factor in his foster son's later inability to connect with others on an emotional level. It was Harry who instilled in Dexter the notion that if you lose control, you become powerless, and that you must put on a facade to mask your true self. Harry was a hard taskmaster, it turns out. We're left wondering what Harry's motives actually were. And how much did he actually know about Dexter's origins?

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While it's tempting to write an entire article about that aspect of the character's evolution, for now suffice it to say that Dexter does have a breakthrough, and finally opens up to Rita, at least sexually. It's not easy, though, and after a failed attempt, Dexter realizes he needs one more session before he can kill Dr. Meridian. Apparently, this breakthrough takes, and Dexter and Rita have rough, sweaty sex--finally. And one layer of Dexter's carefully applied mask falls away.

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Dr. Meridian's mask has fallen into shreds, though. It turns out that he got his kicks by preying on the weaknesses of his distraught patients. He denied them theire anti-psychotic meds, and then preached the virtues of suicide to them, encouraging them to blow their brains out. Kinky fetishes like that cannot go unpunished, especially when Dexter has incontrovertible proof. The doctor made videos of his final sessions with the women, and saved them as trophies of a sort.

Dexter dispenses his slice and dice version of retribution on the shrink, but not before thanking him for helping him with his own neuroses. Dexter is nothing if not mannered.

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Ordinarily, this would be where the episode ends. But Dexter is rapidly approaching a climax. Rudy, the altruistic doctor who is also dating Deb, sends Dexter an IM, saying, "we'll share a cold one soon." Then we see him toying with a Barbie doll head as he walks into a refrigerated room cluttered with bloodless body parts. The Ice Truck Killer is finally revealed!

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Or is he..?

Robert Plant and the Middle Eastern Metal Blues

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Stadium shows are all well and fine, in the sense they provide fans a momentary sense of solidarity. It doesn't matter that you're packed in with thousands of complete strangers, or that the stage is light years away from you, or that the sound is so dissipated it might as well be a Martian broadcast. What matters is the event, and the "I was there!" bragging rights, along with the raggedyass tee-shirt you paid four prices for, and which dates you forever within a week of that drunken purchase. We've all been there, and we'll proudly proclaim 'til our dying breath, "That (fill in appropriate band) show was the best freakin' concert I ever saw!"

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To really appreciate an artist, though, you have to see them in a more intimate setting. Clubs, where the nuances of the music interact with audience reaction most intently, are the ideal venue. Smaller halls, particularly those with amphiteatre-style seating aren't quite as personal, but the acoustics in those environments, coupled with their casual atmosphere, nonetheless leave you with the sense you've witnessed a performance. And that stays in your memory a lot longer than a stadium show ever will.

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Robert Plant, especially during his Led Zeppelin days, did a lot of stadium shows. That's why Robert Plant and the New Sensation, his first-ever solo DVD release, is an unexpected pleasure. Originally aired 29 June 2006 as an installment of PBS's Soundstage concert series, this is a seamless performance that showcases Plant and his latest band, the Strange Sensation, in a relaxed environment.

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Plant and the band ease into the show with a Middle East-inspired version of "No Quarter," heavy on accoustic, dreamy percussion and loping rhythms. If it comes across as a bit stately, it's because it quietly sets the tone for the rest of the concert. This is a show that moves at its own pace, unfettered by preconceived expectations. Sure, the obligatory Zeppelin tunes are in there, but sprinkled judiciously between tunes mostly from his Mighty Rearranger album. The version of "Black Dog" here sounds familiar, but the arrangement takes the song into new territory.

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At heart, Plant has always been a blues singer, and throughout the concert, he works that aspect of his talent into all of the material. While some say he can no longer hit the high notes he did in Zep's glory days, I'm inclined to believe his voice has evolved into something closer to the source influences. Either way, he can still belt out a tune better than most. He no longer need to hit the high registers to prove a point--his stylings are rife with authority. A listen to, say, "Gallows Pole" will dispel any doubts to the contrary.

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A singer is only as good as his band, though, and the Strange Sensation may be the best group of musicians Plant has worked with in his solo career. Clive Deamer (drums) and Billy Fuller (bass) are a formidable rhythm section, often enhanced by Justin Adams on the darbouka. Adams, like Plant is fascinated with the music of Northern Africa and the Middle East, and is largely responsible for the dreamily exotic sound inherent in the show. He balances it with some amazing blues guitar riffs, especially on the intro to "Whole Lotta Love." John Baggot (keyboards) and Skin Tyson (guitar) counterpoint the exotic with straight out, unabashed rock runs.

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Ultimately, what this DVD does is paint a portrait of Robert Plant as an artist who is not content to relive his past triumphs. Sure, he acknowledges them with a respectful wink, but the focus of his solo work has always been to landmark new musical territory. His interest in Moroccan rhythms, coupled with his Celtic and blues influences, set him apart from most of his contemporaries. While Rod Stewart may be content to recycle questionable classics, Plant is more akin to Peter Gabriel in his approach to his music. Like Gabriel, Plant , with each new work, attempts to redefine his previous boundaries. And while he may not always be wholly successful, the journey is never anything less than interesting.

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Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation is a rarity in concert videos. Largely because of the Soundstage format, the viewer has a sense of closenes with the performers. But it's Joe Thomas's direction that enhances the "live" aspect of the program. A total of eleven cameras, including a gib mount and a steadicam, film the entire event, and Thomas intercuts the various angles with an artisan's eye.

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If I have any complaints at all, it's only that, at 66 minutes, it ends too soon. But what an incredible 66 minutes! I highly recommend it.

Dexter: Duplicity, Double Crosses and Double Wides

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Let's just say Dexter's life is in overdrive. The past two episodes, "Return to Sender" and "Circle of Friends", have shifted the emphasis from Dexter as Dark Avenger to Dexter as Serial Killer Covering His Tracks. The eyes peering from the broken trunk lock turned out to belong to a Cuban refugee child who, fortuitously enough for Dexter, spoke no English, and was still possessed with a dreamy sense of wonder.

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That shouldn't imply that Dexter was his usual cool and collected self in "Return to Sender." He spends most of the episode sweating bullets, as well he should, considering Valerie Castillo, the coyote wife he didn't have time to properly dispose of has resurfaced on the very killing table in the very trailer where she met her demise. While I said in the previous post bodies tend to not stay submerged forever, this was unexpected. Dexter quickly surmises that the Ice Truck Killer must have placed her back at the scene of the crime.

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For the first time, we see the usually unflappable Dexter begin to unravel, at least internally. "Nothing lasts forever," he muses. "Just ask a Ford Pinto." On the one hand, he's resigned to the fact that he, like all serial killers, will be caught. On the other, his predatory instincts convince him that he has a little more killing to do before that time comes. Complicating that is the fact that the Ice Truck Killer has seemingly double crossed him. What had been mutual, if twisted, admiration for each other's work has been transformed into a set-up to destroy Dexter.

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Deb isn't helping matters either, as she constructs a spot on profile of the dead woman's killer. Dexter knows it's a matter of time before he's found out, and his thoughts turn to Rita, and the effect it will have on her and the kids. Rita, meanwhile, gets a call from the ex, out of prison and wanting to reestablish ties with the family.

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Dexter doesn't know this, of course-- he's busy dumping the tools of his trade, and anything else that might expose him, into the deep blue. It's an oddly poignant moment, as we watch him fondly reviewing his slide collection. When he comes across Valerie's slide, he finds a smiley face has been etched into the blood. Dexter realizes that his "friend" has given him a hint as to how to extricate himself.

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Desperate times call for desperate measures, and even though it violates one of the tenets of Harry's Code, Dexter uses a bit of the blood to implicate the husband in her murder. Since he lies in pieces at the bottom of the ocean, he'll never be found. Dexter lives to kill again.

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But killing is not what Dexter is really about. The genius of the series lies in its ability to empathise with the emotions that drive Dexter. For someone who claims to feel nothing, he nonetheless involves himself in the lives of everybody who surrounds him. Sure, a case could be made that it's just part of a sociopathic nature, but it goes deeper with Dexter. As "Circle of Friends" illustrates, this is a character who desperately wants to connect, despite his inner dialogue to the contrary.

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Dexter has a lot on his plate this go-around. Deb and Angel have apparently tracked down the Ice Truck Killer, and it turns out he's a nondescript taxidermy hobbyist, who lives in an aluminum double wide mobile home. Dexter cannot believe this turn of fate, and neither can LaGuerta-- both expected something a bit more imposing from the notorious killer. Still, the suspect, Neil Perry, knows things only the Killer could know, including details on how he drained their blood. It's an airtight case, especially after a search of his double-wide uncovers photos of all the victims.

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As if that weren't enough, Jeremy, the teen murderer Dexter spared in Episode Three is back, and he hasn't heeded Dexter's admonishments. This time, he's killed a high school student because he wanted to "feel something different." Doakes and crew quickly arrest him, but before he's arraigned, he commits suicide. Taken out of context, this would be only filler, but the scenes between Dexter and Jeremy, dialogues centering on the isolation and emptiness they have in common, subtly advance the direction the direction the series appears to be heading.

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Meanwhile, Rita's ex, Paul, has returned, and is determined to reestablish his role as the "alpha male" in the kids' lives. Given that he is a wife abuser, this means his agenda is to reestablish his role as a wife beater, as well. Rita knows this full well, and mutters she wishes he would "just go away forever." Since Dexter has already bent Harry's Code, that could very easily happen before the season's end.

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Early on in this episode, there's a seemingly throwaway scene in which a party is thrown for Tucci to celebrate his newly acquired artificial limbs. I say "seemingly" because nothing is throwaway in Dexter. We're introduced to the doctor who fitted Tucci with the prostheses, and learn that his mother lost both legs in an auto accident. He wanted to put her back together, "but the pieces wouldn't fit." Deb finds him fascinating, as do we, but for different reasons.

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Despite all the evidence against Perry, I think it's safe to assume he's not the Ice Truck Killer. In a cliffhanger ending, Dexter finally confronts his alleged nemesis. Perry looks at him blankly, and says, "Who the fuck are you?"

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With only five more episodes left before the end of the twelve episode run, the tension is building. We know Dexter will preservere, since Showtime has announced the series will be back for a second season. In the meantime, things are getting--pardon the pun--dicey.

How to Revive a Dinosaur

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These are trying times for NBC. Only a couple of years ago, the network was the undisputed Goliath among the broadcast TV networks, with shows like Friends, ER, Frasier and the various Law and Order franchises dominating the prime time ratings. Of late, though, NBC has fallen to third place on the ratings totem pole, below CBS and ABC. And while new seies such as the phenomenal Heroes may signal a reversal of the network's fortunes, execs there are conceding "must see TV" ain't what it used to be.

Last month, NBC announced sweeping realignments that included major cutbacks in their news department, as well as a shift in their primetime strategy. The opening 8PM (EST) slot will be relegated to game shows along the lines of Deal or No Deal, and low cost reality series. It's a risky gambit at best. While lower cost programming may increase ad revenue in the short term, it could place the Peacock in a precarious position. By eliminating sitcoms and dramas from the opening slot, the network may find itself scrambling for a series potent enough to stand on its own without a strong lead-in.

NBC Universal remains undaunted, however. Their new business plan, dubbed NBCU 2.0, recognizes the limitations of broadcast TV in the new landscape of ad revenue, and refocuses the network's direction to the frontier of digital distribution. “Success in this business means quickly adjusting to and anticipating change. This initiative is designed to help us exploit technology and focus our resources, as we continue our transformation into a digital media company for the 21st century,” said Bob Wright, chairman and CEO of NBC U, in an official press release.

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A part of that transformation was the November 9 launch of DotComedy, a broadband channel drawing on NBC's "rich heritage of comedy," according to Jeff Gaspin, President, NBC Universal Cable Entertainment, Digital Content and Cross-Network Strategy. ( I have to wonder. . . can he actually remember that entire title?) While the content of the site is hardly groundbreaking, it may afford a glimpse into the future of network television. All the networks, including the basic cable outlets such as Comedy Central and the Cartoon Network, have utilized the Internet to promote their product for some time now, even offering full episodes of series via the Web. But with DotComedy, NBC Digital has upped the ante, offering original programming exclusive to the Internet.

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I've been casually poking about DotComedy for the past week, and it looks promising. Mind you, I said promising, not great. True, it does offer some original programming, ranging from the puerile ("Double Dragon") to the slapstick ("Easter Bunny Begins") to the outright funny "The Quest for Length") in its "Digital Shows" section. That's offset, though, by the "TV and Movies" page, which exists as a promo for SNL and upcoming Universal theatrical comedy releases. "Stand Up Straight" serves up, as one might expect, stand-up comedy clips, and "Totally Viral" is a smorgasboard of videos in the vein of YouTube. "Sitcom Flashback", I think, has the potential to lure repeat visits. Besides episodes of old standbys Leave It to Beaver and The Munsters, it goes deeper into the archives to offer episodes from cult classics like Dream On and Significant Others. There's also a "User Made" section, parked for now, vacant now, as it awaits submissions.

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Bearing in mind that DotComedy is taking its first faltering steps, it's not too shabby. NBC is promising more original content before year's end, as well as clips from David Letterman's years there, among other classic comedy from their extensive vaults. It's evolving, slowly but surely, as it updates daily. Its success or failure hinges on just how far the network execs are willing to take it. If they play it safe, DotComedy has little chance of succeeding. With bandwidth and time at a premium, Web users are unlikely to make the site a destination location. Done properly, however, it has the potential to pioneer the convergence of traditional and digital delivery of entertainment.

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That convergence, which has been talked about for years, but never realized, translates into an entirely new platform from which advertisers can hawk their wares. And it's something for which they've been clamoring for at least the past decade. The decline in profits that traditional broadcast and print media have fallen victim to can be directly attributed to their reliance on time-worn methods of doing business. By extension, it helps to explain why profits are down almost across the board for manufacturers and retailers nationwide.

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What NBC has done with DotComedy is open a new vista that could potentially have an unparallelled effect on media as we currently think of it. By putting their brand on a stand alone internet venture (albeit still a promotional tool for the parent company), they've taken the pioneering step of cross-referencing media. Whether DotComedy succeeds is almost irrelevant. A floodgate has been opened, and the convergence of media is set to sail.

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Does 3 Lbs Have Enough Weight to Make a Splash?

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Whatever else you might think about it, you have to admit 3 Lbs is an extremely cool title for a TV series. It's utilitarian, it's ambiguous and it's mysterious enough to pique your curiosity. And when you find out that the title refers to the average weight of the human brain, you're hooked, and all the producers of this series have to do is reel you in.

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Or maybe not.

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Actually, 3 Lbs was pitched to the networks for the 2005-06 season, but didn't make the cut. Apparently, it was a darker, more cynical pilot with Dylan McDermott in the lead role. That's not unusual. Producers frequently rework pilots to get the concept on the air. It worked for Star Trek, after all. 3 Lbs was re-written and recast, with Stanley Tucci replacing McDermott in the role of iconoclastic neurologist, and it was in the wings to be a midseason replacement.

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That was before the fiasco that was Smith left CBS scrambling for for a viable property to fill that prime time real estate. And so it is that 3 Lbs has been bumped up to a 14 November premiere.

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If this premiere episode is any indication, 3 Lbs may sneak in to become a sleeper hit. The set-up is simple: an idealistic neurosurgeon, Dr. Jonathan Seger (Mark Feuerstein), landing a job at a renowned neurological center, finds himself at odds with the hospital's chief, Dr. Douglas Hansen (Stanley Tucci). Hansen has a nuts and bolts approach to his work, often referring to the brain as "wires in a box." Seger, on the other hand, sees the brain in a more spiritual way.As a balancing point, Dr. Adrianne Holland (Indira Varma), who may or may not have been physically involved with Hansson, makes it clear that she finds Seger. . . intriguing.

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The plot of this episode, involving a teenage violinist with a brain tumor, is secondary to the dialogue between the three principals. This is a story that hinges more on the cerebral than the visual, more concerned with questions of ethics than splashy storytelling. It moves at a leisurely pace, unconcerned with the cliffhanger before the commercial break.

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Viewers expecting something akin to House will be surprised when they view 3 Lbs. Where the former takes a cavalier approach to the medical mystery, 3 Lbs focuses more on the frailty of the human element. It's more character driven than plot driven, and as such, it raises more than a few questions about motivations.

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If 3Lbs doesn't get bogged down in proseletizing, it has the potential to be a provocative series. The pilot sets it up nicely, and one can only hope it remains true to its principles.

The Pretenders Weren't Faking It.

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There was a club in Dallas in the eighties called the Agora. Before it was a venue for live music acts, it had been a dinner theatre-in the-round, which helps to explain its great acoustics and the fact that there was not a bad seat in the house. I saw a lot of bands there--Talking Heads, the Ramones, Iggy Pop, and on and on. But I never saw a band that could match the Pretenders for raw rock and roll exuberance.

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It was 1980, and Chrissie Hynde, along with James Honeyman-Scott (guitar), Pete Farndon (bass) and Martin Chambers (drums) were riding high on the runaway success of their debut album. The Agora was filled to its 1200 seat capacity when the Pretenders played that night, but it hardly mattered. As soon as the band took the stage, nobody was sitting anyway. And for the next two hours, the Pretenders proved the mettle of what had been committed to vinyl.

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The Rhino reissue of their debut LP, simply titled Pretenders, is a stunning reminder of how auspicious that first effort was. If there was one album that was the bridge between raw punk and the more melodious new wave, this was it. There had never been a band quite like the Pretenders, and certainly not one fronted by a woman. Sure, there were predecessors such as Patti Smith, who early on tapped into the punk sensibility, but no woman before Chrissie Hynde channeled that into head-on sexual awareness. Hynde could swagger with the best of the men, but her female perspective put her in a league of her own.

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Here, she alternately coos, snarls, teases and hisses her way through her vocal stylings, sometimes all on the same song. Particularly on "Precious", with its unforgettable exclamation "Not me, baby--I'm too precious--I had to fuck off!", and the raucous "Tattooed Love Boys", with its hard-edged look at groupie lifestyles, she makes it abundantly clear that she can express a full range of emotions, bemused sarcasm not the least of them.

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The original Pretenders lineup sounded like nobody else at the time. They were neither punk or pop, but managed to strike a chord that defied definition. Even their top forty singles "Brass in Pocket" and the Kinks cover "Stop Your Sobbing" have a sense of tension lurking just beneath the jangly pop surface. But it's on "Mystery Achievement," the album's finale, that the power and the cohesivenes of the band is most aptly demonstrated. Farndon lays down a pulsing bass line over Chambers' pounding beat to intro the song as Hynde slides into a simple rhythm riff supplanted by a vocal wail that segues into Scott's blazing lead guitar. The song jams and gains a dizzying momentum, yet never loses its anchor. It's a great jam, so tight and polished it still sends a chill through the listener. Sadly, the original Pretenders would only make one more album together. Both Scott and Farndon succumbed to the excesses of rock, and overdosed. Cocaine got Scott, and heroin took Farndon almost a year lear later.

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The Pretenders have gone through several incarnations, with Chrissie Hynde being the only constant in the makeup of the band. It was always, undeniably, her band anyway, but the groundbreaking magic of that debut album would never be surpassed. Pretenders was, and still is, one of those rare albums that happened at the perfect time with the perfect band with the perfect sound. Twenty-six years after its initial release, it still--how shall I put it?--kicks major ass.

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This reissue pays tribute to the original release, and expands on what was already a perfect album. It's been remastered, obviously, but lovingly so. Bill Inglot's production here adds a crisp, clean sound to Nick Cave's original without demeaning the original work. If anything, it enhances the individual players' performances.

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What really makes this version of Pretenders outstanding are the extras. Most notable of these is a second disc containing sixteen songs you won't find anywhere else. There are outtakes "Cuban Slide" and "Porcelain"), demo versions that add another layer to the evolution of a song, previously unreleased tracks (most notably the C&W "Tequila") and a blistering five-song live performance.

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Also enhancing this release are new liner notes chronicling the origins of the band, and, almost unheard of today, a lyric sheet. For the first time, we actually get to read what Chrissie Hynde was saying, and we find she knew how to write, on top of everything else. That tone of cynicism is offset by angst and longing, punctuated by resignation.

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Finally, there's the packaging itself. Rhino eschewed the the plastic jewel box in favor of a cardboard tryptich gatefold that neatly pockets the two discs and the booklet. As a result, the CD comes across more as an event than a reprint. It's a trend in CD packaging I'm seeing often of late, and I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. Besides being infinitely more ergonomic than the jewel box, it makes you feel like you actually have an album.

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All that aside, Pretenders stands as one of the benchmarks of rock and roll. 1980 was a seminal year for rock--the Clash released London Calling, Peter Gabriel released is third eponymously

titled album (I call it "Melting Face"), and the Pretenders exploded from out of nowhere to change the shape of pop and rock forever.

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The Rhino reissue of Pretenders is essential listening for anybody with even a casual interest in the evolution of rock.

A Few That Almost Slipped through

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Regular readers may have noticed that I cover a lot of music here. The cool part of that is I get a lot of free music. A lot. The downside of it is I get a lot of free music. While I really try to review anything and everything worth mentioning, occasionally I get so inundated, some things get shuffled to a lesser priority than others. A number of factors weigh into this, but the main culprit is time--there are only so many hours in a day. Bare minimum, I listen to an album three times before even attempting to review it. And then there's my need to research the band.

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There's another factor at play, and it has nothing to do with the merits of a particular album. In my reviews, I attempt to cut through to the essence of the album, without talking it to death. My feeling is that the reader only wants to know if an album is worth their time and money-- not whether the artist may have a tie to an obscure French poet. As a result, some works, particularly EPs, don't lend themselves to a lengthy review.

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The eponymously titled EP by the Cat Empire is a case in point. If you haven't heard of the Cat Empire, you will soon. This Melbourne-based sextet are multi-platinum stars in Australia, and they're set to storm the States in early 2007, with the American release of Two Shoes. Recorded in Havana, Two Shoes fuses Latin rhythms, jazz, funk, hip-hop, barrelhouse blues, ska and rock into a miraculously cohesive whole. It's a #1 hit Downunder, and with good reason. For now, we Yanks have to be content to whet our appetites with this compilation teaser EP.

The six songs here are culled from their three Australian releases, and they're all winners. Think Madness, with reggae-style Clash sitting in, at a beach party, and you have a rough idea of their sound. Watch out for these guys.

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While they may have the worst band name in history, What Made Milwaukee Famous is actually a pretty good, albeit uneven, listen. Trying to Never Catch Up, their debut release on indie label Barsuk, is actually a remastered reissue of their 2004 self- release, for those keeping score of such trivialities. Like a lot of Austin bands, WMMF know their music on a technical level, and they showcase their technical expertise and influences just a tad bit too much.At some points, they sound like an eighties power pop band, at others, brooding artistes and at yet others, Bay area hippies. Still, most of the songs here hold up quite well individually. As a cohesive package, however, it's lacking. Chalk it up to artists searching for their voice. When it's all said and done, though, WWMF is going places, regardless of how much I hate that name.

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Persephone's Bees is a band name that rolls off the tongue a bit better (at least, for literary types.) Notes From the Underworld is an exuberant pop rock album that never strays far from its punk roots. Fronted by Russian-born Angelina Moysov, the Beeshave a sound that harken back to the heyday of eighties new wave, with a vibe that falls somewhere between the pop balladry of the Motels and the post-punk anthems of Siouxie and the Banshees, with a dash of Chrissie Hynde thrown in for luck. This is the core of rock-- guitar, bass, drums and vocals--played with a conviction that undermines any pop superficialities. Make no mistake about it--Persephone's Bees will be a breakout band in the coming months. Make that the breakout band.

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I've always said there's good music out there--you just have to look for it. In this case, I just had to listen to things that got buried in the clutter.

Darker than Dexter, Colder than the Ice Truck Killer

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Dexter Morgan, just like every other human on the planet, spends a lot of his time lying to himself. While most of us focus our self-delusions on our inherent goodness, Dexter ruminates on his self-imposed isolation from the rest of humanity. He likes to think he feels nothing, that he is incapable of feeling what other people feel. A large part of this was instilled by his foster father Harry, who saw Dexter as a tool through which he could, by proxy at least, train Dexter to vent his own frustrations.

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In "Love American Style," Dexter is forced to wrestle with the lie that drives him: namely, that he is devoid of the need to connect emotionally. Up to this point, he's been portrayed mostly as a merry prankster of mayhem, his singleminded devotion to his craft deftly played for dark humor. In the subtext of the plotline, however, there's always been a thread devoted to Dexter's understandable sense of isolation. After all, it's not easy to maintain mainstream appearances when your avocation is acting as an avenging angel.

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"Love American Style" brings that conflict to the fore, and takes the series into a more three-dimensional direction. Heretofore, the motives for Dexter's killings have been presented matter-of-factly--that one's a pedophile killer, this one's a snuff filmmaker, and so on. But with this episode, the series delves into the events that precipitate Dexter's grisly actions.

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More importantly, it scrutinizes one of the vilest, darkest and most overlooked aspects of illegal immigration-- the ugly trade of human trafficking, as practiced by the smugglers known as coyotes. Coyotes smuggle illegals into the States, for a hefty fee. Often, these would-be immigrants are never seen again. "Love American Style" explores this issue with a typically Dexteresque solution.

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When Rita asks Dexter to use his police connections to investigate the disappearance of a coworker's fiance, there is no doubt where the episode is headed. He immediately goes into Dexter the Stalker mode, and pieces together the evidence he needs to justify the coyote's untimely demise. Things get more complicated when he discovers at the last minute that the coyote's wife is the brains behind the scam. Together, they've drowned countless Cubans whose families could not pay the surprise transportation fee.

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Woven through this main line are the subplots and themes that make Dexter compelling. Tucci, mutilated but recovering, is the one solid lead the cops have on the Ice Truck Killer murders. Doakes and Deb are assigned to interview Tucci as part of the investigation. While Doakes is typically all business, Deb bonds with Tucci on a more human level. Doakes cautions her to put emotions aside, and deal with the questioning on a purely professional level. But Deb has always dealt with everything on an instinctive level, and here, it goes into an empathic level.

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Dexter's developing relationship with Rita is becoming the thread that may prove to be either his salvation or his ultimate undoing. As much as he tries to convince himself to the contrary, Dexter is in love with Rita, and his attempts to come to grips with this alien emotional state may be contributing to his carelessness of late. On the one hand, he seems more focused in adhering to Harry's Code at any risk. On the other hand, he's distracted by his new found need to lead "a normal life."

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All of this may explain the seemingly incongruous title of the episode. What "Love American Style" does is look at the various angles the word can bounce off of and still maintain its integrity. There is a scene near the end of the episode when Dexter asks the doome coyote couple how they've made their marriage last. "We do everything together," the wife replies. Indeed they do. Dexter sees to that.

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Love, as Dexter suspected at the episode's beginning, does complicate life--and death. His mission to avenge the illegals the coyotes had killed was complicated when it turned out he had two evildoers to eliminate. Consequently, he didn't have time to neatly cut the wife into pieces for disposal at sea. Whole bodies have a tendency to resurface, even when dropped indeep waters. "But sometimes you have to take a chance," he muses as he prepares to dispose of his victims.

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He has no idea what a chance he's taken. Somebody sees him loading the Hefty bags into the trunk of his car. We only see a moving eye watching from the trunk of a junked Mercedes. Is it a coincidence? Or is someone besides the Ice Truck Killer stalking Dexter? Either way, Dexter is poised to find his life becoming increasingly complicated.