Sure to baffle bandwagon jumpers who warmed up to the comparably palatable pop melodies of 2004's Sung Tongs and 2005's Feels, this re-release of a 2002 live recording stands as a stark reminder of the band's avant-garde roots. Recorded during the group's first tour and originally limited to only 300 copies, Hollinndagain captures the band at its most eccentric and uncompromising. Essentially a free-form sound experiment running through popping static, simple keyboard notes, manipulated vocals, and stomped and clapped rhythms, the music is both hypnotic and beguiling tribal. The songs evolve into each other, through the rumbling clatter of "I See You Pan" to the cacophonous pounding, electric guitar strums, and piercing electronic drones of "Pride and Fight." There are more accessible moments, though the tracks rarely evolve much past the most general song rudiments, such as the furiously pounded drums and breathless chant-sing vocals of "Forest Gospel" and the squealing feedback and surging distortion of "Pumpkin Gets a Snakebite." For the most part, though, the album plays like one long, incredibly unpredictable song, mostly carved out of improvisation and the fearlessness needed to attack whatever idea emerges in the creative process. Those looking for a mind-expanding noise jam need look no further. Those wanting a Feels redux need not apply.
-Matt Fink

ANIMAL COLLECTIVE
Hollinndagain [Paw Tracks]
[Fans of Black Dice and the Boredoms take note.]

Eric Bachmann (Archers of Loaf, Crooked Fingers) has been moving toward this album, providing a progressive striptease until now, when he's mostly alone with an acoustic guitar in full singer-songwriter mode. Don't let that sort of nakedness be a turn-off; Bachmann's too skillful a lyricist to be hurt by the isolation of his vocals, letting his characters be the ones dismayed by loneliness. He also crafts these songs masterfully, using only his guitar and occasional accompaniment in performances that are consistent across To the Races, yet unique enough to stay interesting over the course of 10 songs. In an odd move, he loads the disc's three longest songs at the front of the album, which might suggest lengthy storytelling to come. That idea would be misleading (he settles into the pop-song length), but it doesn't matter; the long songs move by and the shorter ones maintain their own weight. The substantiality comes largely through desire (anxiously so in "Genie, Genie"), but it never pulls down a simple appreciation for beauty, as in the "Little Bird," making the record sound fresh without betraying effort.
-Justin Cober-Lake

BOBBY BARE JR.
The Longest Meow [Bloodshot]
[Fans of My Morning Jacket, Drive-By Truckers, and Lambchop take note.]

Folks have been combining country and punk at least since the Mekons, but it's really only in recent years that punk itself has broken down enough to be comfortably bred with its shaggy Nashvillian cousin. Our buddy Bobby Bare Jr., the son of a major-leaguer in the country world, managed to strike the perfect balance between the two with his 2004 disc From the End of Your Leash. The album was one of the best surprises of that year, and his new follow-up manages to be even more loveable, if also slightly more uneven. Recorded in a single marathon session with players from great, strikingly subtle bands like Lambchop and Clem Snide, The Longest Meow lets Bare indulge in the raspiest vocals he's yet put on tape, lending a sense of hard-won weariness to undercut the Southern rocked-out party atmosphere of the rowdiest music in his catalog. Just try not to sing along with "Uh Wuh Oh," and I'll be damned if I'm not constantly finding myself humming "The Heart Bionic" even days after I first heard it. The guy's got greater records in him yet, but this one will certainly do for now.
-Steven Hanna

BONNIE �PRINCE' BILLY
The Letting Go [Drag City]
[Fans of beautiful nights alone with a bottle of wine take note.]

The sun will always shine, the birds will always sing, and seemingly (hopefully?), Will Oldham will always make music. Like those natural and mysterious beauties, the man behind the Palace moniker and half of Superwolf takes to a guitar with his beautifully shattered lyrics and makes tunes as if he was born to do so. Once again taking the title Bonnie �Prince' Billy, Oldham has offered up another record rife with musings on love, God and the like. Along for the ride is Dawn McCarthy of Faun Fables (haunting vocals), Emmett Kelly (tastefully intertwining guitar), and several gorgeous string arrangements provided by Ryder McNair and Nico Muhly. Luckily, all these elements fall together in a way that allows room for the bearded star of the show to do what he does best, but also hold their heads high enough to keep up with a certifiably high standard. Which is to say, not many can write, sing, and pull off a stunning, poetic line like "I'm a hard-hearted honey-pot hungry shepherd and I'm longing to be born for you."
-Austin L. Ray

THE BLOW
Paper Television [K Records]
[Fans of Mirah, Anna Oxygen, and Tracy + the Plastics take note.]

Khaela Maricich makes tech-savvy dance composer/performance artist Jona Bechtolt (Y.A.C.H.T., the Badger King) her official Blow cohort on Paper Television, her fifth release. Collaborators since 2004's limited edition EP, Poor Aim: Love Songs, the duo churns out 10 tracks of danceable indie pop in just over 30 minutes. These songs are a far cry from the Blow's inconsistent 2003 debut LP, The Concussive Caress, and 2005's re-release of Maricich's early folky recordings under the Get the Hell Out of the Way of the Volcano moniker. Bechtolt's catchy, intelligent electro beds bring Maricich's sweetly voiced, bare-bones tales to life. Between feminism and metaphor are coherent songs steeped in divergent '80s influences like the Knack ("Pile of Gold"), Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam ("The Long List of Girls") and the Sugarhill Gang ("Pardon Me"). More traditional nerd-girl group tracks like "Parentheses" and "Babay (Eat A Critter, Feel Its Wrath)" cleverly illustrate the best and worst in relationships, from unconditional arms-wide-open love to becoming a shit-swallowing doormat. With the music on its way to being as fully conceived as the lyrics, the only way for the Blow to go is up.
-Natasha Padilla

BRIGHT EYES
Noise Floor [Saddle Creek]
[Fans of M. Ward and Elliott Smith take note.]

Collecting stray Bright Eyes singles, covers, and unreleased tracks on one 16-track set (21 on the vinyl release), Noise Floor is a fine overview of the material Conor Oberst didn't release on proper albums from 1998 to 2005. Of course, given the context, the songs can be rather hit or miss, but the overall quality is surprisingly high throughout. "I Will Be Grateful for This Day" points to the electro-pop direction Oberst would go on 2005's Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, with monstrously distorted drum loops and skittering electronics swirling around a sturdily epic keyboard line. Similarly, the Dylan-drenched folk-rock of "Trees Get Wheeled Away" could have easily fit on 2005's I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning. "Spent on Rainy Days" takes a more muscular approach to Elliott Smith's tortured melancholy, with its sad, winding guitar lines and depressive lyrics worthy inheritors of Smith's X/O era. There are few genuine surprises, though the reverb-drenched "Seashell Tale" is startlingly close to an M. Ward outtake, especially with Ward playing the dreamy blues-inspired guitar lines. As always, Oberst is an endlessly engaging performer, capable of jaw-dropping insight and unfortunate overstatement. But at his best, he's an artist of rare and penetrating vision, something Noise Floor documents in abundance.
-Matt Fink

CALIFONE
Roots & Crowns [Thrill Jockey]
[Fans of Califone's Quicksand/Cradlesnakes and Roomsound take note. Only this one is prettier.]

Who knew Tim Rutili was the quiet one? Or at least, the guy in the bluesy-blousy Red Red Meat who'd wind up making messed-up sculptures of cinematic sound rather than just rickety old riffs? The old and the rickety still exist within Califone's filmic, clanging folk, moody, murky loops, and tech-y squalor. But with every passing album, Rutili slowly pushes the agenda of gently stringent melody and tender beauty beyond their usual musty Eno/Oldham atmosphere. Country clutter gives way to lightness throughout - on a barely-there cover of Psychic TV's shockingly gorgeous "The Orchids"; through the wiry piano-poppish "Spider's House." Even lyrically, when you're assuming the worst, Rutili finds the dear a la "3 Legged Animals": lines about "licking your scars" and birthing yourself anew. By Roots' end, you're anything but rooted - lifted instead by the husk of possibility and structured experimental sentimentality that is Califone suddenly.
-A.D. Amorosi

GRAHAM COXON
Love Travels at Illegal Speeds [Parlophone]
[Fans of Blur (circa 13) and Buzzcocks take note.]

Erstwhile guitarist of the U.K.'s Blur, Graham Coxon has been quite prolific since his departure from that group six years ago. Love Travels at Illegal Speeds is his sixth solo full-length to date, and his most fleshed-out work. Riding on punky elements - be they his shouting vocal delivery, aggressive guitar slams, or his whining sentiments - Love owes a lot to British intelligent punk(-ish) mainstays: the Buzzcocks and the Jam. But Coxon doesn't limit his considerable abilities to simply barking out easy lines like "gimme some love" on the song of the same name. Instead, he reaches into other areas, slowing down to a moderate pace, showing some gentle emotion on "Just a State of Mind" and beautiful movements on "Don't Believe Anything I Say." Not that the rest of Love isn't emotional. On the contrary, Love is all about emotions: anger, hurt, happiness, and all the other ones that come with liking/disliking girls. Love is a wonderful power pop of a musical postcard.
-Lily Moayeri

DEPECHE MODE
Speak & Spell, Music for the Masses, Violator [Rhino]
Touring the Angel: Live in Milan DVD [Sire/Reprise]

Children of the techno-corn, I have bad news. Prepare to smudge your mascara. The guys of Depeche Mode are no longer your hairdon't pretty-boy synth-pop twerpy new-romantic darlings. From the sound and live footage of Touring the Angel - thusly capturing their 2006 shows - the Mode is made of tougher stuff.

That doesn't change the past. Between listening to the density of melancholy chords and arching layers of sequenced sorrow that is "Enjoy the Silence" and "Policy of Truth," (1990's Violator) and its less sophisticated little brother (1987's dirge-pop Music for the Masses) and seeing the DVD short films "Sometimes You Do Need Some New Jokes" and "If You Wanna Use Guitars, Use Guitars," included in the packages, you feel a group of youthful musicians struggling.

They struggle with the gains in arch musicality and deepened emotionalism that would cause one to question whether they'd never let you let them down or whether their Jesus was so very personal. They toy with images of a broken Europe, a battered England, and the souls within them, and come up hurt every time. There is brooding and bruising, misspent passion, and unrequited love - all for which Martin Gore and Dave Gahan are but mouthpieces. This is electronic music with as much muscle as lipstick.

Their 1981 debut, Speak, and the accompanying flick "Do We Really Have to Give Up Our Day Jobs"? It's robots-in-drag stuff; sweet, queeny, dumb, and gloriously contagious.

Fast forward to 2006's Tour and the muscularity of the music far outweighs its precious precision. Every melancholic melody and dusky Euromantic chorus is funneled through a bank of rough piano poundings, gurgling sequencers, and faux orchestral swells. "Walking in My Shoes" is particularly poundy; "Enjoy the Silence," gurgly; "Nothing's Impossible," so swell, as fueled by Gore's guttural guitar harangue with a drummer whomping skins. So "Precious" is a wet pucker of drums and bubbling sequencers, making it potently fleshy and teetering forceful; as if a sleek speeding car was about to overturn. From the phase-shifting sturm und drang of "Never Let Me Down" and the dirtballish "I Feel You" to the Kraftwerkian chug of "Stripped" and the white-light whoosh of "Photographic," Gahan and Gore are edgily emboldened - as if they'd never worn a lace sleeve in their life. Rock on.
-A.D. Amorosi

THE DRONES
Gala Mill [ATP/R]
[Fans of early-'70s Rolling Stones, the Archie Bronson Outfit, and songs that take their time telling stories take note.]

This Australian foursome is less about lugubrious droning than it is about bluesy lumber-and-lurch, and its signature sound is marked by jarring, guitar-driven key changes that are easily mistaken for recording equipment breakdowns until the band snaps into formation behind. Misnomer though the Drones' name may be, however, it's also one worth remembering, because this band is great at what it does. At its best, Gala Mill takes the aesthetic of Sticky Fingers-era Stones and blows it up into an epic raison d'�tre, and a song like "I'm Here Now" plays like "Sway" cross-bred with Jeff Buckley's "Lover, You Should've Come Over." And yeah, if that sounds good to you, you will indeed like this record. The Drones have upped the ante some from last year's fine Wait Long By the River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By, and when you hear "Work for Me" gussy the blues with horns and tremulous strings, you'll almost forget that lead singer Gareth Liddiard also crafts tunes like the interminable but excellent story-song "16 Straws" that stand strongly, perhaps intimidatingly, on their own. Get this.
-Steven Hanna

ECSTATIC SUNSHINE
Freckle Wars [Carpark]
[Fans of � well, nothing I hope to encounter again soon take note.]

Normally I have no problem with not liking a record. That's what I do - like, not like. Upon hearing the irritating ring and round-and-round-about harangue of its guitars, I not only disliked what Ecstatic Sunshine did, I actively despised it. Its never-ending needle and wheedle; its insistent high pitches. The nonstop math-rocky rollick that even at its bleakly fuzz-toniest seemed to roll and cheer. It wouldn't stop. And I couldn't cease wanting to sledgehammer my stereo. Still, I felt bad. I knew - given my history of Fripp, Fahey, Frisell, and Frith - that Ecstatic Sunshine was mine to love. And the boys from Lancaster and Baltimore seemed nice. So I wondered: Was it me that day? No. Because I tried listening to Matt Papich and Dustin Wong duel loudly and quietly across several days, and whether they were blue-grass picking or grindcore pickling, it was heinous. Had my mom dropped me on my head during a Steve Howe guitar solo when I was a baby? She didn't recall so. But when I played this CD for her, she wished I was a baby all over again so she could body-slam me. Oy.
-A.D. Amorosi

JEREMY ENIGK
World Waits [Lewis Hollow]
[Melodic indie rock done like no other. Fans of Sunny Day Real Estate and the Fire Theft take note.]

It's been a long time coming, this second solo album from the smooth-voiced Jeremy Enigk. His first, Return of the Frog Queen, came out in 1996 while his most popular artistic outlet, Sunny Day Real Estate, was on top of the indie world. But since then, Enigk hasn't been too prolific, releasing two more albums with Sunny Day, and one with the Fire Theft. World Waits is different from the Frog Queen in that it's more of a stripped-down rock record. Gone is the orchestral bombast and general quirkiness, replaced here by a sound that's more in line with his more straight-ahead work in both Sunny Day and the Fire Theft. Man, this guy's still got the greatest voice around, one that could melt the most stonehearted of hipsters. It's a voice that no one has ever really tried to emulate, because no one could even come close. Combined here with a mixture of uplifting rockers and slower, more subdued tracks, it's nothing short of wonderful to hear Enigk at it again.
-Greg Pratt

ENSEMBLE
S/T [Fat Cat]
[Fans of Junior Boys, Lou Barlow, and Cat Power take note.]

Five years have passed since Montreal electronic auteur Olivier Alary and collaborator Chanelle emerged with his ambitiously forward-thinking debut, Sketch Proposals. Much has changed in the intervening six years; Ensemble is now solely Alary's project, and his brand of esoteric and unconventional pop music has moved closer to the mainstream. With his self-titled sophomore release, Alary ups the ante. From the ambient static and electronic crackles that lead into the svelte boy/girl vocals, understatedly chilly synths, and sunburst saxophone climax of "Summerstorm," it's obvious that Alary is set on creating a perfect electronic/indie pop amalgam. What follows that sparkling opening is a back and forth between found-sound sculpting to pristinely shimmering pop, mixing synth drones, acoustic strums, and symphonic groans. As Alary isn't a vocalist, he digs into his contact book and pulls out Lou Barlow for the overgrown synth-buzz pop of "One Kind Two Minds" and Cat Power's Chan Marshall for the darkly meandering "Disown, Delete." Admittedly, it's pop music that requires multiple listens to fully grasp in any meaningful way, but it's pop music just the same, whether drawn from pristinely layered production and delicately languid melodies or the six minutes of wind blowing through leaves that close the album.
-Matt Fink

BENJY FERREE
Leaving the Nest [Domino]
[Fans of the White Stripes and Iron & Wine take note.]

Maryland-born Benjy Ferree is the latest singer-songwriter to evoke a feeling of classic Americana through bluesy folk music. True, there's been enough white urban fakers to fill a dozen O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtracks, but Ferree brings enough creativity and emotion to stay clear of that ghetto. There's enough quirk in the bouncy "In the Countryside" to suggest both the Beatles and the backwoods. His straightforward moments can be just as powerful, too; "Private Honeymoon" is a gorgeous, mournful waltz, and the upbeat "Dog Killers!" works in a little bit of sloppy garage rock energy, sounding like the White Stripes at their liveliest. Leaving the Nest begins to drag toward the end since almost every song hovers around five minutes, and his cover of Johnny Cash's "Little at a Time" succumbs to the hokey old-timey feel that the rest of the album avoids. However, Ferree's innocent, gentle voice and dark, literate lyrics give Nest an appeal that extends beyond wax-museum roots music.
-Niles Baranowski

FUCKED UP
Hidden World [Jade Tree]
[Fans of Minor Threat on a hell of a wicked bender take note.]

And the award for most fitting band name goes to � Fucked Up. In two simple yet effective words, this Toronto group sums up the mission statement of a band destined to, well, fuck shit up, and be fucked up while doing it. Notorious more for their onstage exploits than their stripped-down hardcore/punk, these guys have been known to bleed and sweat out hollered vocals and harmonic-heavy three-chord riffs on a nightly basis. Dangerous sounding, like punk is supposed to be, this is the perfect middle ground between Minor Threat and Portland's late, great Poison Idea. So, in other words, we have quite the wonderful little dichotomy going on here. Hidden World is a touch on the long side, but still about as good as a melodic punk album will sound these days without being radio-friendly whatsoever. These guys would have fit in perfectly in the �80s hardcore scene, full of piss and vinegar. Features Pink Eyes on vocals, 10,000 Marbles and Concentration Camp (one dude) on guitar, Mustard Gas on bass, and Mr. Jo on drums. Did I mention Pink Eyes wears Mexican wrestling masks and is prone to attack the audience? Like I said, fucked up.
-Jason Schreurs

GOLDENBOY
Underneath the Radio [Eeenie Meenie]
[Ludicrously obscene stand-up comedy by a nerd metalhead. Fans of cuss words, [Fans of Elliott Smith and Neil Finn take note.]

There's some confusion as to who Goldenboy is. The subject of this particular review is the duo of Shon Sullivan and Bryan Bos. These are the same guys who namedrop Johnny Marr and Ed Harcourt as close friends. Underneath the Radio is the Goldenboy's second long-player, the follow-up to 2002's Blue Swan Orchestra. Quiet and simple, Underneath has more than a hint of pop to it. This is not the in-your-face booty-shaking kind, but it does slip under the skin. The playful melodies of "Blackbird at Heart," bolstered by the simplest of guitar strums and non-invasive drums, have an impact much greater than their parts. "Second Day of the Year" takes this up a notch with a slightly more upbeat tempo, with some triumphant trumpets. The basic blueprint of unfettered riffs and clear vocals with a minimal drum accompaniment are a constant, making Underneath easy and pleasing.
-Lily Moayeri

MICAH P. HINSON
Micah P. Hinson and the Opera Circuit [Jade Tree]
[Fans of M. Ward, Tom Waits, and maybe the National's Alligator take note.]

It's such a shame for fans of singer/songwriters that so many are so bland and boring. After all, the things that singer/songwriters supposedly offer - authenticity, unfiltered emotion, the rawness of real experience - are exactly what most of us turn to music itself for. But the fact of the matter is there are only so many chords, and only so many turns of the human voice, and it all starts to sound the same after a while. Unless, of course, you're someone like Micah P. Hinson. I'll let you fish around the blogs for yourself if you're interested in the pill addictions and broken bones and hospital stays that fed into the gravelly man-and-a-guitar sincerity of Hinson's folky new disc, but suffice it to say that The Opera Circuit sounds like all the extras from Deadwood took Art Brut's advice and got together to form a band. The whole affair has a certain slightly grim, but still thrilling, realness to it that's reminiscent of all the best contemporary American music. And like just about all the best acts nowadays except possibly the National - with whom Hinson shares a certain dark sensibility - it also sounds oddly out of time, like it was recorded back in the days that M. Ward romanticizes and Dylan and Waits channel. Why is it that all the greatest music of 2006 sounds completely unlike 2006? Ah, don't worry about it. Take your mind off such heady issues with a spin or two of this.
-Steven Hanna

THE KOOKS
Inside In/Inside Out [Astralwerks]
[First disc to collect all eras of this pioneering rock band. Fans of early Goo [Fan of the Kinks and Supergrass take note.]

The Kooks are yet another youthful British group poised for greatness. Really, can we ever get enough of these? Like all of their predecessors, the Kooks pay overt, unabashed tribute to those that came before them. But they make it sound like so much fun. From the funk-filled "Sofa Song" to the excited bounce of "Eddie's Gun," the young energy of this quartet is bursting out of its debut: Inside In/Inside Out. Vocalist Luke Pritchard goes out of his way to sound as British as possible, alternating between shouting about people who don't love him and softly speaking about others moving in their own way. Inside In/Inside Out is bizarrely diverse yet entirely comprehensible. The fact that they're throwing some dubby ska in the middle of everything with "Matchbox" or that they're getting bluesy on "Time Awaits" somehow makes all the sense in the world. It makes you want to be kook-y in the worst way.
-Lily Moayeri

LIGHT THIS CITY
Facing the Thousand [Prosthetic]
[Fans of Arch Enemy, In Flames, and Megadeth take note.]

Light This City showed promise on last year's Remains of the Gods, but the group truly comes into its own on Facing the Thousand. The band betrays its country of origin by Americanizing the melodic death metal invented in Gothenburg, much like the Black Dahlia Murder, whose vocalist Trevor Strnad guests on "Fear of Heights." However, the disc veers further in the direction of classic thrash metal that was forged in the same San Francisco clubs that Light This City came up from. In reality, all the metallic bases are covered: the title track gallops like vintage Maiden, "The Unwelcome Savior" could have been written by Testament during the band's halcyon days, "City of Snares" perfectly encapsulates the Gothencore sound, and the dizzyingly fast "Fear of Heights" rekindles grindcore's intensity. The comparisons to Arch Enemy will continue - they have to since vocalist Laura Nichol is one of the few women who can approximate the "I can't believe it's not a guy" death metal growls that Angela Gossow does so well - but that shouldn't detract from the fact that Facing the Thousand is a stellar album, one steeped in metallic tradition yet thoroughly modern in every sense of the word.
-Brian O'Neill

THE MARS VOLTA
Amputechture [GSL/Universal]
[Fans of Yes, Rush, brass, and experimental rock take note.]

The Mars Volta is a funk-laced Spanglish psychedelic punk rock big-band with infinite imagination and ability. This fusion of divergent influences succeeds because of the band's fearless masterminds. Calculating nothing but their compositions, vocalist/lyricist Cedric Bixler-Zavala and bandleader/composer/guitarist/producer Omar Rodriguez-Lopez enlist the same core musicians as Frances the Mute with a few exceptions: Fellow At the Drive-In alum Pablo Hinojos-Gonzalez handles sound manipulation and John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers) reportedly plays most of the guitars this time around to let Rodriguez-Lopez focus on musical direction and production. What ensues is more cohesive and refined. Tackling religion, illness, and death, the band's first "non-concept" record challenges and charges across four epics, two interludes, an intro and an outro. Most songs are rooted in an accessible, recurring rock core that gets layered and blown apart, free of the lengthy, textured expanses that frustrated many listeners on Frances. Instead, Amputechture is a nearly perfect album with more high points than this space allows me to describe, which is what makes its eight-minute denouement all the more disappointing. After 68 minutes of brilliant flux within seven tracks of bursts, intricacies, and emotive panorama, the initially intriguing "El Ciervo Vulnerado" turns out to be nothing more than a spacey didgeridoo flirtation with an abrupt finish. An unfitting, unfulfilling end to one of the best albums of the year.
-Natasha Padilla

MY MORNING JACKET
Okonos [ATO]
[Fans of �70s psychedelic and My Morning Jacket take note.]

My Morning Jacket is one of few bands that both hippies and hipsters can rock out to guilt-free. The Kentucky quintet's latest endeavor is a live album called Okonos, the accompanying soundtrack to a live DVD to be released in October. Okonos is basically a two-CD greatest hits album recorded live at the famed Fillmore in San Francisco. Fans will hear all of their favorites, from newer tracks like "Wordless Chorus" and "Gideon" to hits from It Still Moves like "Mahgeetah" (which sounds more than ever like Kermit the Frog is singing) and a beautiful version of "Golden." It's a great album, but except for the audience noise and the occasional vocal ad lib in the form of an extended moan-scream, it doesn't feel very live. First reason for this is that My Morning Jacket plays so impeccably live it sounds like it's miming studio versions. Second reason is that the show was specifically engineered for the recording, so all of the imperfections that make a live recording a live recording are not there. But considering it's a two-disc album and my only real complaint is that it's not "live" enough, well � it's fantastic.
-Jess Hemerly

NORFOLK & WESTERN
Unsung Colony [Hush]
[Fans of the Aislers Set, Wilco, and Iron & Wine take note.]

The first lyrics on Norfolk & Western's latest release, Unsung Colony, sum up the album well: "Quiet / is how you like it." This Portland, Oregon group's style of indie rock is something fitting for a rainy day (or a warm summer evening when you're at home writing CD reviews instead of drinking beer outdoors like the rest of your friends). Their sound includes a miscellany of genres, mixing bluegrass, post-rock, dream pop, and even a little jazz into solid compositions that make you feel like you should be on a swing set. The range of instruments is impressive - from guitar to accordion to glockenspiel to banjo to strings - and it all works. The album's more upbeat tracks, like "The Shortest Stare" and "The New Rise of Labor," might rouse your inner twee, while the slower ones, like "Barrels on Fire," are dreamy and romantic songs best suited for slow-dancing in the living room. The only weak moment is the track "Atget Waltz," which is reminiscent of creepy carnival music and mariachis. Yet despite this song, the album is beautiful.
-Jess Hemerly

OXFORD COLLAPSE
Remember the Night Parties [Sub Pop]
[Fans of hooky guitars and hookier vocals take note.]

Prolific Brooklyn trio Oxford Collapse would do well to remember those late night shindigs of last week and the week before that, but mostly probably because it was the band playing in the basement as sweaty hands placed cold beers to mouths. The band's third record in as many years as well as its Sub Pop debut, Remember the Night Parties is consistently highlighted by scrappy guitars and Michael Pace's oft-desperate and melodic vocals, and the result is a generally listenable but occasionally less-than-interesting song set. Drawing relentless(ly unnecessary) comparisons to dance/art punk bands such as Gang of Four, Wire, and Liars, among others, Oxford Collapse's tuneful rock �n' roll slants (at least on this album in particular) toward much more jangly, pop-oriented songwriting as opposed to anything that can be described as "angular" or can get compared to the Rapture. Indeed, it's quite possible that one of the bathroom walls at one of those parties read "For a good time, call Oxford Collapse."
-Austin L. Ray

+/- {Plus/Minus}
Let's Build a Fire [Absolutely Kosher]
[Fans of Versus and the Dismemberment Plan take note.]

+/- rush-released this album in Japan nearly a year ago; however, that version has a different mix and arrangements from the disc you can buy here, which is mastered. So for all intents and purposes, it's a whole new album. And if it's as good as the Japanese version, the album will be making lists for best indie pop release of the year on two continents. James Baluyut and Patrick Ramos might decry the comparisons to their old band Versus, though the similarities seem to be dissipating with time. Baluyut's pop sensibility is obvious across both projects, but Let's Build a Fire is much more well-rounded than anything either band has ever done to date. The female vocals on several tracks, most notably the bouncing and quirky "Thrown Into the Fire" and the melancholic pop-dirge "Ignoring All Detours," really stand out, as does the extemporaneous extra instrumentation. The disc has a unique flow brought about by a wide sonic pallet. Some songs strum organically while others rely on more electronic effects; some tracks amble along slowly while others have pep in their step. Despite this, the disc still manages to be a cohesive statement, brought together by Baluyut's breathy vocals and the songs' catchiness.
-Brian O'Neill

ROBERT POLLARD
Normal Happiness [Merge]
[Fans of Guided by Voices and Miller Lite bottles take note.]

Although the release of a new joint from Grandpa Bob Pollard is about the biggest non-event this side of Ryan Adams dropping his latest musical turd on the marketplace, it's hard to ignore the prolific melody fiend who led Guided by Voices throughout just over two alcohol-soaked decades. Normal Happiness is the second proper album from Pollard in 2006, and it emanates power pop succinctness throughout. Of course, he's never been afraid to write a two-minute (or much shorter) song in the past, but there is no "Kicker of Elves" here. These are cohesive nuggets of catchy bliss, not overwhelming in brilliance, but rarely reveling in throwaway status, either. Honestly, Pollard shouldn't be able to consistently churn out such material so often. Here's to hoping he keeps fighting the good fight.
-Austin L. Ray

SOMEONE STILL LOVES YOU BORIS YELTSIN
Broom [Polyvinyl]
[Fans of Ben Kweller, Diet Weezer, and the Shins take note.]

Missouri, stand up! Before this, the debut record by a certain group of Springfield, Mo. youngsters with an unusually long band name, found its way to Polyvinyl, the band sold an impressive 1,500 (or so) copies at shows. After rocket-launching a handful of mp3s to any blogger willing to give a listen, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin found a home for its originally self-released first album on the Champaign, Ill. imprint. And with good reason. Broom's lighthearted fare gallops along, sprinkled with pianos and sing-along vocals throughout, echoing the late Elliott Smith on gentler numbers and the exuberance of Ben Kweller on the rockers. Really, the only complaint that can be logged against the album is that it becomes a bit same-y at times. But with repeated listens, SSLYBY's melodies will find a charming place in your headspace. Hold the sugar, though, because this band's got the sweetness covered.
-Austin L. Ray

SPARTA
Threes [Hollywood]
[Fans of At the Drive-In, Sunny Day Real Estate, and U2 take note.]

On its appropriately titled third release, Sparta continues to prove it can make hard rock as radio-friendly as it is intense, but the band doesn't show that it's got anything new to add. The group occasionally opens up a bright sound that sounds too indistinct in the FM throng (and a little U2-influenced), but mostly Sparta stays focused on its aggressive side. While the playing remains technically sharp, the group sometimes pushes past the emotional boundary into histrionic territory. When the band keeps that impulse reigned in, it delivers the most successful performances. "Weather the Storm," for example, features an expansive structure, ambitious playing, and smart use of dynamics, but never sounds overblown. Although it comes a bit late on the album, the track redeems some over-the-top moments from the disc's first half. Even so, Sparta's technical work and original songwriting keep Threes afloat; it gets shaky at times, but never sinks under its own weight.
-Justin Cober-Lake

SQUAREPUSHER
Hello Everything [Warp]
[Fans of Squarepusher's Ultravisitor and Chris Squire's solo albums take note.]

At the risk of sounding like a jerk-off, Tom "Squarepusher" Jenkinson is starting to come off like those fusion musos who listen to old George Benson Blue Thumb-label albums and check out Joe Zawinul's post-Weather Report concerts. That's not bad. At its best, Squarepusher's bell-toned drum �n' bass rush meshes elegantly and riskily with arch melodies culled from unlikely influences. His new "Hello Meow" and "Planetarium" sound like Dr. Who to me. There are environmentally-sound ambient beauties ("Vacuum Garden"). There are busy, blip things ("The Modern Bass Guitar"). Previous works have borrowed themes from Mike "Exorcist" Oldfield, Tangerine Dream, and one-time label boss Aphex Twin, as well as his own rich melodies. And his tunesmithing gets bigger and brighter with each album. But rather than linger, as he once did, on the gentler, stonier sounds of musique concrete and eccentric vibration, there's fluidity to his song-y moments that sometimes work gorgeously. And sometimes, they don't. I'd like to count his thrumming, touch-tone jazz-janglers as nice; his sensuous guitar runs filled with pastoral vistas clouded by dark, charcoal-colored clusters of subtle rhythm, pretty; and those tunes where he pops that fucking bass like Jaco, absolute wrecks.
-A.D. Amorosi

THUNDERBIRDS ARE NOW!
Make History [Frenchkiss]
[Fans of Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Starlight Mints, and Marvin the Martian take note!]

Hoo boy! That exclamation point at the end of this band's name ain't kidding! For their third full-length, following up on last year's very, very good Justamustache, these kids from Detroit have managed to stake out territory on the far, far reaches of post-punk, in some sort of cartoon landscape where spiky guitar lines and fierce, drum-tight rhythms support goofball vocals delivered with a straight-edge lack of irony! And it's all done with the kind of youthful enthusiasm that makes simple chords sound like stakes-in-the-ground declarations of war! Lead singer Ryan Allen is perhaps the only vocalist in indie rock who could walk the fine line between ridiculousness and potency, which marks punny numbers like "Panthers in Crime" or "(The Making Of) Make History." And the only reason he can do it is because bassist Howard Chang has stretched that tightrope so taut with his playfully brutal efficiency! If these guys seem like they're trying to get your attention, they are! But take it from me, they deserve it, too! Oh, and if you even sort of like this disc, you're gonna love these guys live, when they really take no prisoners! So listen up! -Steven Hanna

TO LIVE AND SHAVE IN L.A.
Noon and Eternity [Menlo Park]
[Fans of Nick Cave, Young Gods, and opiates take note.]

Not a band as much a collective, not a collective as much whoever decides to get with founder Tom Smith at any given moment, the oddly-monikered To Live and Shave in L.A. (TLASILA to their friends) has existed in one form or another since 1990. Smith, usually with a core featuring Ben Wolcott and Rat Bastard, has released a seemingly endless stream of tiny-label discs that explore avant-garde soundscapes and man's inhumanity to man, or something. Much like Negativland, each of the group's releases seems to have a life of its own. Noon and Eternity welcomes a star-studded menagerie to the fold - Don Fleming of B.A.L.L. joins Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore, and beer-commercial rocker Andrew W.K. plays drums! - and the resulting cacophony seems as much performance artistry as it is music. Odd samples and electronic flashes of sonic light blaze across downtuned post-Sabbath guitar skronk, while a maniacal baritone voice rants and raves in barely decipherable tones for the better part of the entire disc - four songs in 66 minutes, and good luck figuring out when each one ends and the next one begins. This is not music to drive to, nor will it appear on a snazzy mixtape. But if you put your headphones on and close your eyes, you may just see God.
-Brian O'Neill

TUSSLE
Telescopic Mind [Smalltown Supersound]
[Fans of ESG, Out Hud, and Can take note.]

Hello, folks! My name is Will Dance, and I'm here today on behalf of Danceco Inc. to talk to you about our fabulous product, Tussle! Hold your applause, though, because this is no ordinary dance rock group. Hailing from San Francisco, and employing the bass-ridden grooves familiar to ESG, Telescopic Mind is the perfect must-have necessity for your next party or gathering! There's a reason that "tussle" is defined as "a rough physical contest or struggle," folks! You see, from the heavy chug-a-lug of "Warning" all the way through the final seconds of "Pow!," this group of youngsters will have you fighting your friends to see who can shake his tailfeather on the floor first! This one is going to go fast though, folks, so don't delay! Order now!
-Austin L. Ray

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