Shannon Crawford's Cellophane was, perhaps, the best-kept secret of the post-grunge era. The band's under-appreciated (and underpromoted) self-titled debut was released by Virgin records in 1997. A potent mixture of squealing full-throttle guitar and quiet emotional pleading, the group sounded like a cross between Candlebox and Bush when each of those bands was at their best. "Cellophane" wasn't a flawless album, and it wasn't necessarily an indispensable one, but it opens with one of the greatest one-two punches I've ever heard on record: "Here We Lay" and "Down" (A little FYI: if you want to reap the benefits of Cellophane's obscurity, log onto Amazon and do a search for the album; I guarantee you'll be able to find it for less than a dollar, factory-sealed. It'll be the best three bucks, after shipping, you've ever spent).

In spite of a strong album and some lucrative touring slots (they made it onto the first Ozzfest and even scored a live rendition of "Ride Thy Neighbor" on the subsequent tour CD), they never made much of an impact on the scene. If ever there was a star-crossed band of misfits, it was these guys. A combination of record label apathy, personal difficulties, and some monumentally bad luck (an obsessed fan cut the brakes on the tour bus and almost killed them. I'm not kidding. Read Crawford's Myspace.) effectively nipped Cellophane's career in the bud.

Now, ten years after the release of his band's only album, Crawford returns to music with a fresh lease on life. Joined by former Cellophane bass player Doug Ardito (currently of Puddle of Mudd, but don't hold that against him) and Josh Freese of A Perfect Circle, Monster in the Machine lays out a more personal and eclectic vision than Crawford's previous project had hinted at.

There's a strong New Wave influence on "Butterfly Pinned." Songs like "One Way Trip" and "Savior" ring with echoes of The Cure and early New Order/late Joy Division. Nevertheless, the songs don't devolve to the level of pastiche; Crawford successfully integrates these elements into his music without being swept away in them. Precious and fragile as much of the album is, Monster is also capable of cranking out a Talking Heads-style funk stomp-along like "Burns Inside Me."

It's a solid enough effort, but overall it lacks that special something to put it over the edge. The strongest tracks here are the afore-mentioned "Burns Inside Me," the charging "Fear of the Mind," and the unconventionally arranged "Helicopter." Good songs, every one of them, but they lack the raw power of Cellophane's best moments. Nothing demands the listener's attention the way that "Here We Lay" or "Down" did. Although I can't shower "Butterfly Pinned" with my uncritical praise, it is good to see Crawford making music again. If he can channel the sort of energy he had in 1997 and infuse that into his older-but-wiser songwriting expertise, then this machine could very well sprout into a monster.