The Heights -- The Heights

There's something unsettling about Aaron Spelling, basking in the glow of his daughter's escalating career, sitting behind a desk in 90210-land, sifting through 8-by-10 glossies, creating the Heights bands.

The Heights, could be easily dismissed as hokey and processed, packaged for a brainless TV-generation.

The Heights has altered the anthem to "safe sex, no drugs and rock 'n' roll." It's too harmless.

The Heights band was obviously chosen to represent hometown American -- clean, good-hearted struggling . . . artists. Yeah, that's it. Artists.

The sexy brunette saxist, the cutesy blond back-up singer, the misunderstood ponytail man and the James Dean rebel comprise The Heights. The cool dread-locked dude shakes things up and assures political correctness. The band takes no chances.

Tracks such a "Children Of The Night" and the B103 baby, "How Do You Talk To An Angel?" will compel your mother to say, "Ooh, it's that Heights song! Turn that up, dear."

Harkening back to breathy, Cory Hartesque power ballads, The Heights soundtrack will please many a Wilson Phillips fan, who desires nothing more than keyboards and recycled love songs.

Buy it for your 13-year-old sibling and take away that Red Hot Chili Peppers disc for heaven's sake.

Even The Monkees have more talent. Way.

Stone Roses -- Turns to Stone

Oh, what could have been.

It was only 1989. The Stone Roses released its self-titled debut and seemed destined to become Manchester's great white hope. They transcended the trite, more thrilling than Ecstasy.

In a town where you couldn't throw a rock without hitting somebaggy-clothed psychedelic twanger, the group represented the difference. It made pop songs fun again, and more importantly they weren't dreadfully boring like most of the Manchester scenesters.

The ironic twist is that the Stone Roses has yet to relase another full-length album, while band's such as Inspiral Carpets, Happy Mondays and Charlatans U.K. keep on producing pop drivel.

But fear not, after two years mired in legal trouble with its label Silvertone, the Roses should have something substantial out soon. Fortunately for those who can't be lulled by mere speculation, the group has just released a B-Side compilation.

Aptly titled, Turns to Stone, the band delivers enough pop nuggets to assure theyhaven't turned to hardened matter just yet.

With its hybrid of Byrds-like guitar shimmer, ultra cute lyrics such as "Ring-a-ding-ding-ding/I'm goin' down/I'm comin' round," and perfectly nasal vocals -- it's evident the Roses haven't wilted.

Songs such as "Going Down," "Mersey Paradise," and "One Love" should make the listener forget all about its two-year absence.

The complilation isn't just an index of songs, it serves as proof of the band's maturity From the simple charm of "Elephant Stone" to the rave-upped "Somethng's Burning," the group does not rely on formula.