Crisp light-bodied gold-hazed Czech-styled pilsner places citric-hopped easement next to polite caramel malt shelter. Sour lemon-seeded tranquility, mild grassy-hopped bittering and crushed black pepper snip contrast baguette, baked bread and French bread sustenance. Minor floral illusions seep in. A good, serviceable session beer for America’s lawn-mowing proletariat. 
Wintry purple-browned 36th anniversary seasonal retains darker spicing and deeper mocha penetration than most previous versions. Gingerbread, nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice leave loud impression on sarsaparilla wake. Belgian chocolate, cola nut, and cocoa butter illusions peak through mild orange-peeled bittering. Crisp tobacco roast and ashen cigarette remnant waver. 
ELLICOTT CITY, MARYLAND
Located at Ellicott City’s St. John’s Plaza mall on bustling Route 40 since 1996, I visited BARE BONES during two-day January 2011 jaunt to Baltimore vicinity. (Note: A second Bare Bones facility is in Stuart, Florida.)
Not necessarily a brewpub, since brewing operations ceased when tanks were removed circa 2008, but a clean blue-collar sportbar specializing in ribs and reasonably priced pub fare (if not diversified beers and ales).
Perched west of Baltimore City, its wood entry with green awning leads past waiting area to low-ceiling central bar sidled by right side dining and elevated left seating. A separate family-styled dining space was off to the far right.
During early afternoon visit following one-hour Ellicott Mills Brewery stopover, I downed a crock of white chili (skinless chicken with navy beans, herbs, and spices) alongside seven contract brewed house beers crafted by Oliver (Pratt Street Brewery) and Clipper City Brewery. Great classic rock by Yes ("Siberian Kutra"), The Who ("Join Together"), and Alice Cooper ("No More Mr. Nice Guy") played in the background as I dipped into my sampler tray.
Best of the middling light-to-moderate-bodied ales was probably approachable red-orange-fruited licorice-perfumed spice-hopped Old Frederick IPA. Other mainstream standard fare included distantly floral-pined orange-lemon-apricot-teased Tiber River Red, Saaz-hopped crystal-malted lemon-limed wheat-corned hop-fizzed pilsner-styled Patapsco Valley Gold, and citric-blanched maize-dried soft-hopped white-breaded cardboard-like astringency Hunt Valley Light.
Though Savage Mill Porter lacked typical robust nature, its slick oily-hopped nut-charred ashen-backed mocha malting might appease milder thirsts not ready for prime time porter-stouts. Perhaps the soft-buttered nuttiness and minor hop-charred spicing of pecan-fig-rigged Chesapeake Brown Ale would better suffice.
Mild lemon-fizzed pepper-hopped malt-toasted Old Ellicott Ale (an English pale ale) and lemon-wedged apple-spiced lime-lined white-breaded Seven Hills Hefeweizen were clearly mediocre (with the latter beer in need of banana-clove injection).
Slick molasses-malted caramel toasting, disruptive metallic astringency, and acetous iodine driblet thankfully outdone by streamlined chocolate-cocoa spicing. Subsidiary tobacco-roasted gingerbread, pecan pie, dehydrated fig, raisin, almond, butternut and hazelnut illusions penetrate dry rye breading. As bottle drains, ample mocha prominence dissuades blunt alkaline acridity of wildly variable, thickheaded, coppery bronzed, medium-bodied dark lager. 
Don’t obsess over herbal-spiced peculiarities such as green peppercorn bittering and black-peppered rosemary-thyme-alfalfa seasoning enhancing well-integrated golden-hazed tripel since sweet Clover honey malting overrides every extraneous eccentricity. Mild lemon rind souring, hemp-oiled raspberry vinaigrette tartness and floral zucchini-flowered hibiscus-lotus-jasmine reminder reach zenith at fruitful ginger-snapped mango-peach-pineapple-nectarine midst. Tertiary banana liqueur, brandy wine, and lemon meringue illusions further sweeten busy elixir. Just as advertised, "an ale of mythic proportions" (bottled at Sly Fox Brewery’s Royersford facility.) 
After The Prodigy helped manufacture post-Nirvana rave culture for Britain’s underground masses, a swarm of inventive laptop musicians sprung up and found fame in England, hoisting Fatboy Slim and Chemical Brothers atop the next ‘big beat generation.’ Then Daft Punk absorbed these influences and gave a metallic sheen to the heavy groove line, ushering in the new millennium for hotshot modern beat-masters like LCD Soundsystem, Hot Chip, and the more rock-oriented Pendulum.
Leaving Perth, Australia’s early drum and bass alliance to relocate in the United Kingdom during 2003, Pendulum have slowly, but surely, taken over the current club scene and beyond with their impetuously infectious techno-rock concoctions. Led by sturdy original crew, Rob Squire and Gareth Mc Grillen (from unheralded Tool/ Deftones-styled Aussie rockers, Xygen), plus seasoned DJ, Paul Harding, Pendulum expanded their lineup over time, magnifying the enthusiastic electro-percussive soundscape twofold since formative ’05 debut, Hold Your Colour, and its rockier ‘08 follow-up, In Silico.
Full of confidence, swagger, and stacked electronic gadgetry, they’ve now made a perfectly bombastic 66-minute nightclub masterpiece recalculating, redirecting, and re-calcifying 30 years of decadent post-punk discotheque maneuvers for a joyous ecstasy-laced journey beyond the galaxies. Truly, the magnanimous Immersion features something for everyone to get into. Placing thrillingly overwrought mantras inside flashy nu-metal guitar frays, monst0rous dance floor romps, and cybernetic phase-shifting burbles, its plush interior design supports a deliriously cryptic water theme.
Commencing orchestral march, "Genesis," opens the mammoth set, drifting directly into engrossing genre-bending anthem, "Salt In The Wounds," a first-rate state-of-the-art rock-blocked techno-Industrial instrumental just about as fascinatingly phantasmagorical as Hollywood’s greatest espionage capers. Moving through a streamlined synth-drum pulse with furious adrenaline, this phosphorescent seven-minute opus shoots gooey electronic taser spurts and spritz-y laser gun squirts into an insanely megalomaniacal potpourri where Frankie Goes To Hollywood-meets-"Frankenstein" at an intergalactic Star Wars convention.
Without sounding guardedly superficial, Pendulum oft-times enjoys salvaging ‘80s musical vagaries from vinyl wreckage throughout Immersion, forging ahead with one foot in the past on "Watercolour," which could be mistaken for posh arena-ready prog-rock by overblown supergroup, Asia, despite its utterly techno-derived rhythmic crush. In a similar vein, "Crush" revisits not only Asia, but also Europe and Damn Yankees arena rock, reaching deeper emotional heights and gaining wider mainstream access than ‘Watercolour" (an instant ’09 Brit hit single).
Though "Witchcraft" and "The Island – Pt. 1 Dawn" nearly overload the cheesy art-rock tendencies, mesmerizing mantra "The Island Pt. II Dusk" fries the brain with piercing synth-string spikes sunk into a ceaselessly overwhelming bass-drum backbeat that boggles the mind devising trippy modulated oscillations and lofty robotic machinations. Likewise, "The Vulture" bites off a few syncopated rhythm ideas from high-tech disco producer, Giorgio Moroder, with jubilant results.
Pendulum also got the opportunity to employ a few varied musicians that have gained their respect over the years. Prodigy’s Liam Howlett, a veritable techno-rock mentor, provides profuse pyrotechnic percussion blurts to floor-shaking rattler, "Immunize." Swedish death metal band, In Flames, fling a guitar-trebled bass rumble at corrosive gut-wrenching changeup, "Self Vs. Self." Purcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson brings a hint of psychedelic intrigue to symphonic piano-based space-rock illumination, "The Fountain."
Not to be outdone, the dauntingly rancorous assault of "Comprachicos" fucks you like Nine Inch Nail’s "Animal," ultimately spiraling out of control as sizzling guitar riffs and heated synthesizer jabs battle it out until the guys vindictively scream ‘throw it away/ ‘cause I got no patience.’
It may’ve taken two years to assemble Immersion, but Pendulum definitely realized their enormous potential. Every track’s been handled with grandiose Epicurean care and each cluttered performance is given utmost conviction.
I spoke to Pendulum’s Rob Swire mid-January 2011 via phone.
Did you plan on making Immersion into a gargantuan epic during the planning stages?
ROB SWIRE: No. It did take awhile though. We wrote it in the space of two years on and off bus tours. But we really cracked down on it in the last five months of making the record.
Refreshingly straightforward moderate body brings crisp-watered hop-spiced citric intrigue and affable crystal-caramel malting to buttered baguette base. Initial grapefruit peel bittering tails off to misty red apple, peach, and pear sweetness. Unquestionably a fine middle-of-the-road session beer that holds its own against better known fare. 
Traditional English pub ale made from "the stripped down second runnings" of Jersey brewery’s excellent Wee Heavy maintains apropos moderate body. Faint orange compote waft emanates from coppery liquid, followed by mild earthen fungi tongue and milder peat-smoked pale-crystal malting. Root vegetable notes line soft Columbus hop bittering. 
Scoffing traditional Belgian-styled candi-sugaring for ‘golden sessionable' witbier (minus the wheat) perfect for sunny day lunchtime boat cruise alongside light dishes such as sautéed whitefish and freshly barbecued scallops. Grassy-hopped white-peppered herbal spicing lingers through rye-malted burnt orange, banana bread, and extracted vanilla illusions given a teasing ethanol burn.