The longer a record label sticks around, the less sense it makes to categorize it: Can you imagine trying to categorize "the Capitol sound"? Chicago-based Bloodshot, which once billed itself as the home of "insurgent country," now features an essay on its website that concludes, "No one term can truly encapsulate the sounds contained on this site." True enough. Making Singles, Drinking Doubles, Bloodshot's 100th release, ostensibly rounds up tracks from eight years' worth of seven-inches, but bends the formula to accommodate a handful of previously unreleased outtakes. That means that even the most ardent Bloodshot fan hasn't heard everything on this 18-track collection. Making Singles is top-heavy with novelty covers which probably sound great after a full set and a few beers but don't offer much more than a chuckle on cold, hard plastic. (The exceptions are The Volebeats' steel-guitar take on Funkadelic's "Maggot Brain" and Neko Case's revamp of Loretta Lynn's "Rated X," which walks its boots all over The White Stripes' lackluster version.) The CD's best moments come when the artists, like Bloodshot itself, just do what they do: Jon Langford wryly savages the music industry on "Nashville Radio"; The Sadies surf the plains with "Little Sadie"; Kelly Hogan gets revenge with "1,000,001," a riposte to The Sadies' "One Million Songs." Making Singles might not be the best sampler of Bloodshot's ample talents, but it's enough to wet your whistle and get you thirsty for another round. –Sam Adams

Bad Company UK

Mutiny UK

What happens when "America's #1 Drum & Bass DJ" (and Philly resident) Dieselboy starts a label imprint? Not only does he put out products that look and feel sturdy, he fills his HUMAN roster with Britain's most brutal but musical jungle-istes, acts as well manicured as the packaging. Bad Company UK -- Danny "Fresh," Michael "Vegas," Jason "Maldini," Darren "D-Bridge" -- take their drum & bass like they take their coffee: dark and teeth-chatteringly caffeinated with a percolating percussive vibe -- numb and stinging. Whether they play it soft and flutey ("Jellybean") or raging and raving (like Navigator's ragga-rapping "Mo' Fire"), BCUK uses its charred rough-hewn sound to delicious effect. Creepy bleep-meisters Dylan Barnes and Rob Davy -- the men of Mutiny -- live up to the reputation built by sputtering hit jungle singles (like the bassy, banging "Secrets") with an album that capitalizes on that noisy discoid metal and some shabbily skanking tunes like "The Virus." In between the spinning-wheel space soul of "Midnight Lady" and several nu break-dance classics ("Body Breaker" and "Infectious" -- if, say, you can break at 140 mph), Mutiny UK maintains a musical adventure as melodic as Bad Co. and as adventurously beat-driven as their label boss. –A.D. Amorosi

MC Honky

The story behind MC Honky has more holes in it than the streets of Baghdad in times of liberation. The official bio alleges the shadowy mastermind responsible for I Am The Messiah is a middle-aged studio savant who worked his way up from lowly janitor at Capitol Records to engineer at Reprise during the '60s. The legend continues: a failed recording of Kipling's Gunga Din read by Frank Sinatra, a retreat to start a pottery business, a chance rediscovery by E of the Eels (a.k.a. Mark Oliver Everett). A fun story, but after just a cursory listening of Messiah's aural kaleidoscope of Hammond grooves, peppered with bursts of brass, bump-and-grind beats and everything-but-the-kitchen-sink samples, and you get a good idea who's behind the elaborate ruse. –Collin Keefe

Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Simon Rattle, conductor

The last time the Berlin Philharmonic recorded this elephantine symphony was under the helm of longtime music director Herbert von Karajan. Two directorships later, Sir Simon Rattle tackles this music with very different results. Let's cut to the chase: Karajan's reading is superior in every substantial way. Even the recording is better. Rattle gives us a clean, logically organized view of this work, and the Berliners play without blemishes. But objectivity has no place in the over-the-top emotionalism of Mahler. Karajan was not without fault as a musician or a human being. His conducting could be glossy and self-indulgent, and the amoral ambition he displayed as an upstart conductor in Nazi Germany cannot be forgiven. But listen to these two versions of the Adagietto movement, famously used in the film Death in Venice. Rattle gets all of the notes right, and the music is very beautiful. Karajan turns this music into aching sensuality, capped by an orgasmic crescendo. Rattle makes a pretty sound; Karajan sends shivers down your spine. This is not the same orchestra: There have been too many personnel changes in the 14 years since Karajan's death. But on the evidence of this recording, a tradition has been lost. Until someone comes along to prove otherwise, one must resort to a tired old saw; they don't make them like they used to. –Peter Burwasser