Swaggering and all mighty, the stalwarts of Pinoy alternative glam unveil their fourth album.

Remember one of those walking B-Bomb thingies in Super Mario Brothers? These little suckers were as cute as buttons, but they packed a terrific wallop when they stopped walking and the fuse on their heads ran out.

Five on the Floor is like that: bursting with endearing rhythms that can ignite a mosh pit in seconds. Or you can settle into the controlled anarchy of songs like "Sugod" (their homage to the ‘70s and the Juan De la Cruz band) or "DVDX" (their homage to the indomitable Pinoy entrepreneurial spirit, read: piracy) in the comfort of your own room and it won’t diminish your enjoyment at all.

Sandwich excel at making music that hits the jugular. Ever since they burst onto the scene in 1999 with the grandiose art-rock of Grip, Stand, Throw, kicked us in the nuts with the minimalist Four Track Mind and opened the doors wide for the majestic space-mindf*^k that was Thanks to the Moon’s Gravitational Pull, Sandwich have clung to the Pinoy rocker’s ear with tenacity.

Their music has always been concise and straight to the point, each note serves to encapsulate the atmosphere while pushing forward whatever narrative is in tow. Consider the twisted poetry of "View Master" where voyeurism never seemed so glorious: "My eye is bigger than the viewfinder / My heart is heavy with the lie."

Heavy, yeah. Which reminds me: the B-Bombs were notorious for their design flaws, too. A small rock could tip them over and they’d effectively get defused, or wet your fingers and you could put out the burning wick all too easy. Sandwich’s Achilles’ heel is, now that vocalist Marc Abaya has departed the outfit, Raimund Marasigan’s nasal voice that often wanders onto irritating mosquito buzz terrain.

For songs like the glam goodness of "Sunburn" or the dark and seething "In Case of Fire" it’s entirely appropriate, but on full-on clarions that require a berserker growl like "Resbak" or where he should come on soft with pathos in "Let Your Cellphone Shine" Raimund (musical genius that he is) falls disappointingly short. A full set of vocal harmonies with the other band members might be the best thing to beef up or hide this drawback.

All in all, though, Five on the Floor sparkles with the sardonic wit and post-rock energy that Sandwich have made their trademark.

I first heard Point Click Kill (or PCK) at a small but well attended recording studio in Cebu being mixed and mastered. Right then, I knew that these young punks had hit on something honest and spankingly brilliant.

Have you ever heard of raga-core? Nope? Well, don’t worry, you will soon enough. These kids from Cagayan De Oro and Iloilo will give you their very own fusion of smooth rasta rhythms and pummeling hardcore.

Like a huge fist in a velvet glove Point Click Kill are part of the second wave of artists from the stable of Cebu-based Lighter Records. The same people who brought you Urbandub, Dice and K9, Nuncyspungen and The Ambassadors.

PCK are Duhwain (vocals), Dem (bass), Darwin (guitars) and Nino (drums). Judging from the cover art where they appear as cartoons that cross blue-eyed, irisless demons with wild-haired kids we’re talking about a world where bedlam and fun are interchangeable.

On their self-titled debut, PCK vacillate from being ska and Oi! punks to experimental Helmet-style metal heads. The best among them, like the flail-worthy track "Chingilik" and the St. Vitus stomper "Jah Choich," blend these two genres seamlessly to create a truly fresh sonic landscape where warm colors can get you snug or burn you up. PCK are at their best when entwining their instruments into each other and creating a melody tighter than an 18-year-old girl’s, erm, fissure.

Though the cover art and the music both suggest we shouldn’t take these young punks too seriously in their thrill spree, the weak points on this record are all too obvious. Sometimes it seems almost like an apologia. Meaning the hard parts owe too much to modern emo and screamo acts (especially local ones like Cheese, Greyhoundz and ChicoSci) and the soft reggae parts are thin-blooded derivatives of Marley or Toots Mayall.

Songs like "Mentality $#!+" can stand toe to toe with the best of them and come off unbloodied but it doesn’t save this album from heading into repetitive bash and bang land. For young guns like PCK, though, just making it out of the obscurity of the Visayan band scene and onto the stable of Lighter Records is accomplishment enough. We can wait for another year or so and see if they’ll learn to use their weapons for real, beyond the digital caricature realm they currently inhabit.

One half of the vocal MC of hip hop superband Sun Valley Crew, RJ Seneres (aka Ill-J) makes a bid for his own artistic territory with style and grit.

If you are at all interested in Pinoy hip hop then you must check out Ill-J’s coming of age as a solo artist. Ignore the dreadfully designed cover and the inner sleeve peppered with friends and family photos cut and pasted that they closely resemble a refrigerator door. Instead, go pop this straight into your player.

With nearly 10 years in the game, Ill-J (who also happens to be a bona fide legal counsel) has had many milestones in his career, both as a collaborator with nearly everyone of note from Franics M, DJ Arbie Won, Chill and young MC Gloc9. He’s also grabbed critical acclaim with Sun Valley Crew.

The Journey features many hot tracks as in the pop hits waiting to happen "My Shine" and "I Love the Music" but also as a personal manifesto for Pinoy playas complete with scars and credos of positivity like "One Divine" and "The Foundation."

Take the rap in "My Shine" where Ill-J gets back to basics with the defining line: "It’s not hard to understand what I want in this world/ stability for my peoples, my daughter, my girl." Produced mainly by Ill-J’s brother Chrizo, The Journey also spotlights flawless production values as in the clear as crystal vocals of SVC singer Uela Basco on "Reminisce." This one is easy to pick as a personal favorite, something that could be Ill-J’s own "Hey Ya!"

At 19 tracks, though, Ill-J may be spreading himself too thin compiling the tall tress with the fragile little blooms. Still, since this is a highly personal undertaking we may take this as Ill-J’s journal of pain and his book of days complete with commentary on life, politics and the music industry aka The Game.

Other top drawer collaborators on the album include Rye Armamento of SVC, Monique Jaramillo, Harry Javier and Kim Fabros of Seven Shots of Wisdom, Dash of Legit Misfits, Pikaso, Nimbus9 and Marquiss of Turbulence Productions.