August 2006 AstroPOP! is brought to you with musical reviews by Chris Estey.

Cancer (June 22 - July 22)
Summer can give those under the sign of Cancer a longing for an indefinable something. A desire that proves there is little difference between the corridor of the Red Boots and the creeping sense of "the shadow of the Valley of Death." Oneida has returned from the critically licked and nuzzled The Wedding with an album even more full of Life and Death, both harder-edged and more sensual, and reflecting the true essence of the trio within the group (Hanoi Jane, Kid Millions, and Bobby Matador) on their new full-length Happy New Year. Though talented guests — such as Phil from Trans Am and the Fucking Champs — help weave the mystical, mechanical sound of Oneida this time around, it's this trinity of Creators that drape gossamer melodies across the machine-like rhythms of songs like "Busy Little Bee," "The Adversary," and the extra-long and ferocious "Up With People" (hello, Talking Heads for the new millena-blah-blah) like knitting framers fucking up the industrial revolution. This is the most pure Oneida record yet, putting the listener in the position of the Beekeeper, trying to sort the intense rhythms out from the soft creature comfort of the song-bodies: stung by a lyric here, jabbed by a military drumbeat there, as the mesmerizing buzz swathes you in visionary sound. One of the summer's most charming albums, and listening to it becomes an alarming addiction.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Because you have a wide variety of interests, Leo, people may come to you with many investment ideas. You obviously have a wide area of expertise and people know you to gamble on a good thing. "But you have to decide," sings Amelia Fletcher of the band Tender Trap on one of their very best records yet, 6 Billion People. Claudia from The Magnetic Fields drums on the most diverse, cherubic bounce-around-the-bedsit albums of the year. The title track is a wonderful addition to the canon of 'count off' songs, a neglected niche, as the album pop-funk-a-rolls with the giggly "Applecore." Fans of Camera Obscura and the first Frente album could dive in here with glee. Whilst you're ordering this slice of sweet juicy fruit from Matinee Records, throw in for the elegant, dapper new four-song EP from The Lucksmiths, which swirls tasteful strings with Motown bass into a frothy "Orange Juice-cum-Orange Julius" taste treat poured over yummy tracks like "A Hiccup In Your Happiness," and three other sweet-tart treats. This is an affordable investment, Leo, that you would not regret.

Virgo (August 23 - September 22)
Virgos are often considered more concerned with maintaining their principles than making friends. Summer might be a good time to make for good times instead of fighting a war, noble Virgo. Downpilot fights the good fight against being sucked down by the weight of the world on their somehow lilting and yet gripping new album Like You Believe It. As Mark Eitzel once accusingly sang, 'What you preach is far from belief,' and you can feel that kind of grim conviction from singer-songwriter Paul Hiraga in multi-level songs like the hypnotizing "Antwerp" or the aching "A Wave." Downpilot perfect that "Perfect Day" moment of the early 90s in Seattle of waiting in the heat for heroin at the Penny Perk on 2nd, or dropping in to say hello to a friend fresh out of rehabilitation at the Cyclops on 1st. It is a dreary car ride fresh out of a long heartbreak smoking a whole pack as the sun goes down on a town you never want to see again. These are songs risen from the ashes of a life actually lived, and the hot coals sparkling on top are beautiful.

Libra (September 23 - October 23)
Speaking of fire, Libra, Lord knows you're transfixed by the flames of idealism. Unfortunately, you sometimes fail to see your inevitable involvement in controversial situations, and this is what gets you burned. But at least you have passion. What is the passion that drives artists like The Shins, Mirah, The Decemberists, Sleater-Kinney (sweet RIP, sweetness), The Gossip, and others, to contribute to Brendan Canty of Fugazi's and director Christoph Green's unusual DVD series about houses set for destruction that are venues for heroes of underground rock for a day beforehand? It is called Burn To Shine and it is truly beautiful. Really. These are gorgeous songs played by incredibly creative performers, a diverse crew that goes from the pre-teen girls of The Ready to the rough enlightened hip-hop of the Lifesavas. Maybe it's feeling the transitional nature of life and art entwined in heat and life ebbing into eternity, setting in a home left behind. All of the incredibly well-recorded and bizarrely intimate songs on this Portland edition make for one of the best DVD compilations of the year — even if the destruction of the setting captured at the end wasn't so fascinating and affecting. It'll scorch you a little to see a deceased woman's home set ablaze, but the gems of song played in tribute seem more than fitting. A blazing winner, all ways around.

Scorpio (October 24 - November 21)
Scorpios can be softhearted romantics, extremely dissatisfied with the world in many ways. 'Doing a geographic' as they used to say in the program (ahem) is common for such warm-hearted artists as Josh (S on Suicide Squeeze) Wackerly or Carrie (Touchdown Eagle) Murphy, who together begat Panda & Angel. Their self-titled mini-album debut features five frosty meditations of unresolved relational tension building into the crushing, trampling catharsis of "A Thousand Whispers." The electric moment lasts briefly, but pays off all the delicate caresses that came before, until the final keyboard notes squeeze out into half-thawed icicle drippings. This is when quiet music screams and when someone like Carrie raises her voice, your soul goes numb. For those who loved the early slow-core of the mid-90s, these haunting threnodies will be a refreshing respite from indie pop's current contrived overkill.

Sagittarius (November 22 - December 21)
At best, Sagittarius, your income arrives in spurts. Your casualness about saving money will undoubtedly bring you hard times, and this can be an especially difficult habit to practice in the summer. But you might have friend like the guys in the band Martian Memo To God who can pick you up and make you dance and laugh at the same time, even when describing how the drugs and the drink and the bad times are always fucking shit up. But fuck it, let's go party again! Their eight-song sumptuous feast of frolicsome power pop titled So Go The Dreams of the Rough and Tumble kicks off with the windmill insults of "The Skyscraper Boast," lacerating both a chatterbox and the narrator's own proclivities for being an asshole. Then "Six Miles" is the Smiths with sack, regretful but rueful too, as Kelly and Joe eventually go on to continue singing sleekly and warmly about "Useless Chatter" and "Love Among Snakes." There is an obvious 80s influence here, but I dare you to "talk some shit" about where they're really getting that sound from. As crispy clipped and swooning as those guitars and vocals are, the subject matter is timeless ("I smell liquid courage on your breath, and wipe the powder from your nose") and the delivery, irresistible.

Capricorn (December 22 - January 19)
You, Capricorn, however, are frugal and cautious, and this makes you the kind of friend that maybe Sagittarius wants to learn from. Miraflores mines the same sort of desperate material as MMTG on their LP Nobody Knows, but with more warmth and good humor, no razors slashing in either direction, more like an encouragingly firm hug. The opener "New Shoes" laments wasted time without seeming like it, and the envy described in "Louanne" is enviably described at less than two minutes. The angular jaunts through "Not Giving Up" balance out the slow tinkling jazzy crawl of "Blood Shot Eyes," the jaded yet hopeful story songs coming off like a young suave Nick Lowe in a swept-up Seattle garage. The Smiths influence is here too but as well is a launching pad for Ecotopia-pop of the swing and the sheen.

Aquarius (January 20 - February 18)
Aquarius, good relationships with those you work and live with are especially vital to you. That's why when the domestic scene is tossed about, it's especially heartbreaking. Speaking of heartbreak, Tarnished Records seems to be the label also known as Heartbreak Hotel, cultivating a roster of artists aching for reprieve and redemption through their languid, lush torch tunes. Watch The Light Fade, the first full-length from Vivian Linden Vivian Linden is a nine song stack of sadness, even when filled with temptation-trembling desire ("Breathless," "Silver Light"). These are ballads of erotic dreams and faithful devotions challenged, sung by a woman with the steady confidence of a C&W-raised female Sinatra. "Let thy dull moon set," indeed.

Pisces (February 19 - March 20)
You are among life's healers, and in these hot months, something cool may be required of your milieu. So even though you should be ready to chill things out a little, never let yourself lose your own identity. Peace should not come at the price of expression. Take the misty madness of the music of Charlotte Marionneau, also known as Le Volume Courbe and on I Killed My Best Friend she never hesitates to slip in some unpredictability to the cat-nip. Slightly hallucinogenic, piano and acoustic guitar streams accompany her lazy, sexy vocals, as weird thoughts tumble out in the muggy sheets of her songs. A cracked and oddly tuned cover of "I Got Life" from the movie Hair, one can imagine Gypsy folk like Hope Sandoval (who plays glockenspiel on the unharmonic opener "Harmony") near a translucent campfire imagined by Devendra and Joanna. The set doesn't lack for rhythm, as Marionneau's opiated vocals flow through riff poems like "Sitting In Your Head" and the popzilla "Through This Time."

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
The most trying period for an Aries is adolescence. The Old Haunts describe the world of being young and scared shitless by the woods behind your trailer court, even when kissing a girl or setting a big pile of leaves on fire with your friends. Fuel On Fire features eleven run-through-the-jungle and what's-buried-in-the-backyard anthems, full of dread and finger-picking guitar action. Guitarist and vocalist Craig Extine describes a world of terror in the ordinary, a perpetual spinning of one's mind through the gloom, in songs like "Paradise" and "Wasted Day" that dredge up the ghosts of the Dream Syndicate, Gun Club, even a little Violent Femmes. Again, an 80s rural remix on the Velvet Underground vibe, all rooted deep in American anomie.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
You should try to keep yourself free from worry and stress, Taurus, because that can induce melancholy. Even if the summer creates bittersweet thoughts, a Taurus should feel strong enough to belt out a thoroughly ebullient show tune or two, just as Dept. Of Energy do on their soulful yet often Abba-strutting EP. Rippling bass on "I Remember What The Light Fell Like" (a Seattle anthem!), a successful big beat Sgt. Peppers-level chorus on "One Last Wish For Claire Grogan," just a couple great examples of the talented flourishes added to Robb Benson's descriptive, deceptive narratives about aliens, hitting a baseball into the air, and, um, Claire Grogan. It's rare to find the band that can have the well-detailed emotional sweep of Loudon Wainwright III with the zesty humor and tweaked pop hooks of They Might be Giants. But "Cowboys And Aliens" is as grand as anything Brian Wilson ever wrote, even.

Gemini (May 21 - June 21)
Gemini, you're more prone to accidents than sickness, so it's good to keep an eye on where you've moving to, even if you're feeling healthy. If it seems like your will gets away from you, at least you know the narrators of the hard luck songs of the band The Zero Points understand. This is all mod con rock — high-octane, jagged, jittery R&B-based Skank Wave, full of scooter juice and cold gin. The tempos shift from dual guitar jangle-grind to squealing sparks of lead lines from axemen Dave Woods and Peter McGraw, respectively. Aaron Gilbride confesses and complains from bitter-soaked drank-writ journals of heartsick, rib-knocked, hope deferred beyond all sense of reason, as the nimble Surf-psycho rhythm section of Sandy Wilson and Chris Campbell bash and groove. This is teenage head music, full of fucked up hormonal explosions and amp burn. A frenetic intensity can be sensed in tracks like "Push" — which probably kills 'em live — while the creative tempo shift on the chorus of "What I Can Afford" shows The Zero Points can rock AND swing. Blue Collar Billionaire is as screwed up, tense, paradoxical, and tough as its title.