As one of the few nongrunge Seattle-area bands, Soundgarden has always been somewhat of an enigma. The "Seattle sound" is supposed to be dirty, distorted, feedbacked and flannel-wearin', so what's up with this metal sound?

Throughout the band's first few albums, Soundgarden unpretentiously perfected the fast, hard style that is metal and hard rock.

In these early albums, the band played one style of simplistic music and did a great job at it. As the albums sold, however, it seems that the band members decided that people bought them not for the fast, hard sound, but for the supposed artistic ingenuity of the band.

In their latest release, Superunkown, the members of Soundgarden have fallen prey to this idea that they actually have artistic ingenuity. Instead of the usual onslaught of simple rockin' tunes, they work way too hard at creating music instead of noise and trying to sing instead of yelling, screaming or talking the lyrics.

Not to say that Superunknown is a complete washout. There are several of the dumb-but-cool tunes that Soundgarden does best, marking the highest points on the album.

Among these are "Superunknown," "Let Me Drown" and "Limo Wreck." These songs share traits the others lack: no real purpose, just loud, heavy and fast -- what Soundgarden is good at.

Unfortunately, the album lacks more than just a few of these numbers. In their places are songs such as the album's first single -- "Spoonman."

"Spoonman" deals with a man who plays (take one guess) spoons. This is a real person who has opened shows for Soundgarden. The song doesn't fit into the dumb-but-cool category of meaningless songs because this is a serious song that the band has written in honor of a friend.

Essentially, Spoonman holds two spoons in one hand and clicks them off of each other. Sure, he does it really fast (just listen to the -- believe it or not -- spoon solo), but what's the point? It will probably even look cool on MTV, but it just wastes time and space on the album.

Other than "Spoonman," the album falls into a gutter of self-pity with songs such as "Like Suicide," "Fell on Black Days" and "The Day I Tried to Live." It makes you almost forget that they are millionaires.

Although lyrics such as "Words you say never seem/ to live up to the ones/inside your head/ the lives we make/never seem to get us anywhere/ but dead" from "The Day I Tried to Live" flirt with some meaning, the overall effect is more along the lines of the overdone melodrama of soap operas.

All in all, the seeds in this garden definitely didn't produce any flowers. The best thing to do would probably be to bury Superunknown, water it daily and hope for the best. Your chances at getting a good return on your investment are just about as high that way as if you put it into your compact disc player.

Ever have one of those days?

You endure a full docket of classes followed by a cold walk home to an empty apartment where macaroni and cheese is considered a delicacy.

The answering machine cries out for you. A message from your significant other probably lies there, awaiting the chance to pounce on your downbeat spirits. Thinking it's bad news, you pass the machine and reach for the mail -- phone bill, electric bill, Mastercard, Columbia House . . . and a letter from Mom.

Perhaps the only solace you have is that TV set sitting in the corner, preset, as usual, to MTV -- the channel you tell everyone you loathe but the one you watch every day. Easing back into your rock-hard sofa, you pick up the remote, kick off your Pumas and flick on the set. The screen lights up . . . there he is.

Beck -- Buzz Clip -- "Loser" -- MTV poster boy '94.

How apropos.

I liked "Loser" the first couple of times I heard it -- its appeal lay in that whole relatability factor I hadn't felt since "Hip to Be Square" by Huey Lewis and the News. Yet after becoming MTV's "King of the Rotation," the song has become distanced from my state of mind -- the mac' and cheese has gone slightly stale.

But wait! Hold the phone and put on a new pot of water!

After months of having to hum "Loser," Beck's debut album Mellow Gold has hit the wastelands of middle-America. Funky, introspective and altogether insecure, the 12 songs on Mellow Gold present the perfect antidote to the repeat-play poisoning that Beck has incurred.

Formed somewhere on the musical highway between early Dinosaur Jr. and The Beastie Boys, Beck is a soft-spoken guitar rocker at heart who occasionally throws in funky beats usually reserved for hip-hop stylists. This formula has been utilized many a time -- Luscious Jackson for example -- but rarely with such wit and observation.

Listen to the whacked-out sounds of "Beercan" as Beck tries to lose himself in his liquid drug of choice. "Alcohol on my hands/I've got plans to ditch myself and get outside" he sings in his raspy voice to alleviate his tired state of mind.

Beck's outlook is comfortably bleak -- sort of like Kurt Cobain on a good day. Check out the cynical look at fame on "Pay No Mind (Snoozer)" and the haunting "Whiskeyclone, Hotel City 1997." Even the poppy "Nitemare Hippy Girl" revels in whimsical tragedy as Beck describes a girl who has "got tofu the size of Texas."

What's wonderful about Mellow Gold is that Beck's pessimism doesn't hit you over the head with a mallet but rather sneaks in the backdoor. His music hooks us with its catchiness before we can equate the lyrics that catch us off guard with their sincerity.

I think Beck was one of those goofy kids in high school who just floated around with a smile on his face and heartbreak in his heart because, like a lot of us, he didn't quite fit in. I'd love to invite Beck over, down a few brews and revel in being a "Loser." Until then, I'll just keep spinning Mellow Gold.