There are a lot of musical stories in the December, 2008, issue of Asimov’s: derivative punk, Germanic opera, even psychically transmitted string solos. As a whole, this month’s pickings are a bit thin, and not just because the new format reduces page count. Usually one or two stories are memorable standouts, and most are at least surprising. But aside from the shortest and longest pieces, most of these feel rather familiar, re-explorations of ideas a little past their sell-by dates—not rancid of course, but not as tasty as they might have been. As a result, the issue ends up feeling (with all respect) like a feast of leftovers…pleasant enough, but not as satisfying as it was the first time around.

My favorite story is definitely Geoffrey A. Landis’s “Still on the Road,” a flash fiction piece which runs only two pages in the new format. Although it may be a little confusing at first to someone who hasn’t yet read On The Road, Landis’s tone and sentence style captures the breathless, insouciant, tumbledown run-on style of the Beat generation, and Jack Kerouac in particular. There’s also an enchantingly menacing undercurrent in Jack and Neal’s damned and reckless eternal grab-assing across the galaxy.

Although Tim Sullivan’s Maine setting and ultimate premise for “Way Down East” feels a little pat, his characters are sympathetic and many small details add texture—snatches of Quebecois French, a nameless boat, female lobsters with unviable orange eggs. Donny and Laurent are Maine lobstermen on the far side of 45 who need to pay off their new boat. Laurent encourages his friend to assist him in securing a lucrative government contract which may allow them to settle their debts. A visiting alien guest of the U.S. government, nicknamed “The Gleezer” in the popular press, wishes to take a harbor cruise, and a boat with a winch is necessary. What would be lower profile than their as-yet-nameless vessel? Donny’s relationships, prejudices, affections, character arc, and the small-town life he and his business partner lead unfold fairly predictably, but somehow the whole they make is a bit more than the sum of their parts, thanks to Sullivan’s way of describing the strangeness and poignancy of Penobscot Bay’s interstellar guest.

Unfortunately, Kathryn Lance and Jack McDevitt’s brief collaborative effort, “Welcome to Valhalla,” does not rise above its strangely familiar plot. A divine messenger from Wagner’s Ring Cycle visits him on the eve of its premiere and shows him a horrific vision of the future that the popularity of his artistic vision may nourish. Its vividness almost makes up for what this piece lacks in originality, but nonetheless, it falls a bit flat, not so much for its brevity as its predictable plot and ending and the lack of any real tension, as in the end, Wagner’s brief moment of doubt feels something less than convincing.

Inez, a widow struggling with Parkinson’s disease, reflects on her life as her mostly unhelpful gift allows her to see and listen across interstellar space, touching minds with someone who is otherwise utterly alone. But that contact isn’t the most memorable thing about Melanie Tem and Steve Rasnic Tem’s “In Concert”; the way they capture the fluidity of time in their protagonist’s memory and their mostly apt descriptive language are what stick, and if at times the story is a bit sentimental or rather predictable, it is still sweetly elegiac and occasionally vivid and lovely.

“The Flowers of Nicosia” hints at depth but falls short. It’s a readable and oddly original story nonetheless, even if its B-movie aesthetic, elements clipped from the headlines, and odd plot don’t always blend harmoniously. I suspect David Ira Cleary spent some time on Wikipedia (or reading a hardcopy encyclopedia) after hearing the REM song he mentions in his author’s note, as most of the events of the story take place in Cyprus, near the mountain which gave the Amanita genus of mushrooms their name. But that’s neither here nor there. Dennis is the semi-Buddhist, Cobain-obsessed lead singer, keyboardist, and guitar player of a grizzled punk cover trio from Seattle named Downtown Dharma. The band has had a bumpy European tour and decide (with the assistance of Dennis’s aunt in the State Department) to play a conflict zone in the interests of cross-cultural harmony and communication. Vlad, the calm bassist, thinks he’s crazy but comes along anyway, and Rick, their unhinged, Xanax-abusing drummer, doesn’t know any better. Cleary works together a story around them, and although his future can feel a little like the present playing buzzword bingo with the headlines (global warming, biowarfare, religious fundamentalism), the strange world he builds is vivid and interesting, if shallow and nonsensical. And immature though they may be, the middle-aged adolescents at the center of it, along with their companions, are diverting characters. The world may not ring with realism, some characters may lapse at times into unpalatable stereotypes, Dennis’s moronic lyrics may be cringe worthy, and the final crisis may feel like a dénouement crafted by Troma, but it’s definitely not boring.

Steven Utley’s “Perfect Everything” is laced with similarly haunting imagery: a pocket world a palm’s clasp away, the emptiness of space, soil blasted into lifelessness. But unlike “The Woman Under the World” (Asimov’s, July 2008) or that quiet researcher he introduced us to in the plotless yet enthralling “Slug Hell” in September’s issue, the protagonist of this story isn’t terribly sympathetic, nor are his neuroses particularly endearing. Maitland is a self-absorbed, lazy, overgrown teenager who selfishly abuses his friend’s trust and neglects his duties as a crewmember on a ship entrusted to seek out alien life. The ending feels less tragic than an “I told you so,” and although some of the imagery is relatively fresh, ultimately the story falls flat as a result.