File under: Dour but hooky jangle-pop with a decidedly Anglophilic edge

For fans of: The Smiths, The Housemartins, The Lucksmiths, The Go-Betweens

From: Brooklyn, by way of Florida, by way of Connecticut

Personae: Andrew Marr (vocals/guitar), Jared O'Connel (bass), John Barinaga (guitar), Jake Beal (drums)

Ski Lodge’s debut Big Heart opens with a jangle and a pout, a tumble of giddy guitars, a handclap drum track and frontman Andrew Marr sighing, “You don’t have to be like me/ You don’t have to make the same mistakes.” And while the go-to easy critical reference point for this Brooklyn band has been another band with a Marr in it, Big Heart is more than a mere Manchester mimeograph. Its songs sway and sashay, guitars wreathing the edges like fine lace on velvet shirt sleeves. But all that frilliness masks a bruised heart: Throughout Big Heart, Marr laments his inability to connect with lovers and friends and his frustrations with his own shortcomings.

eMusic’s editor-in-chief met up with Marr at a New York coffee shop to talk about Florida, emotional alienation and the perils of teenage drug culture.

On the early influence of the Grateful Dead:

I was in a jam band in high school. We did a lot of Grateful Dead and Phish songs. I started to sing a little bit for the first time in that band. I still respect the Grateful Dead. I was obsessed with them for a while, then I went through a phase where I started listening to more indie music and thought, “Well, I can’t really like the Grateful Dead and Phish if I’m liking this other music.” I’m kind of getting over that now, and realizing that they were great songwriters, and that it doesn’t have to be one or the other. I think a lot of the distaste for those bands has to do with the type of people who like that music and not the music itself. I mean, have you ever been to a Phish show? It’s such a ridiculous scene.

On the downside of growing up in a wealthy community:

I grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut. It’s pretty suburban — it’s about 45 minutes from New York. It’s a pretty wealthy town — that’s usually why people have heard of it, though my family wasn’t super wealthy. It was a great place to grow up, but it’s kind of fucked up also. Kids there just have access to a lot of money. There are a lot of drugs, and that had a big impact on me. High school basically revolved around doing drugs and trying to do as little school work as possible. I was fully in it. I started by just experimenting [with drugs] with friends in middle school — a lot of my friends had older brothers, so it was just out of curiosity mainly. But then I just fell into that group of people, and that was just what we did. It got bad. I crashed a couple cars, so my parents kind of caught on after that. [Pause.] They were their cars.

On being exiled in Florida:

I went there for rehab — I think a lot of people end up there for the same reason — and then I just got stuck there. I started in Del Rey Beach and then moved a little north to the West Palm Beach area. I was there for four years. I didn’t really like anything about it, to be honest. I just kind of stuck around because I couldn’t really get my shit together. A year or two before I moved up here I finally got a band together and we played out a little bit down there. The scene there, there’s just not much going on. Touring bands don’t really visit there much. Miami has a pretty good venue, but it’s just way out of the way from where I was. I saw Radiohead while I was down there, but not really much else.

On his slow departure from the jam-band scene:

A friend of mine played [Death Cab for Cutie's] “I Will Follow You into the Dark” on guitar one time, and he was singing it, and I was like, “That’s an awesome song — who sings that?” And he told me. And I got really into Plans and Transatlanticism, and I listened to them a lot. That was the first band in that world. I got into the Shins right around that same time, too. So then when I was in Florida, I was writing a lot of Death Cab-inspired songs on the piano and just recording them into my laptop. At some point I was just like, “I want to start writing on the guitar — I’m kind of missing this whole other feel.” So I started messing around with it on my own and wrote songs based on my ability. As I’ve gotten better on the guitar, my songs have gotten a little more advanced than they were initially.

On songwriting as biography, and therapy:

None of the songs on Big Heart were narratives about other people. I’m more of a biographer. I get these little snippets of ideas and I try to piece them all together. “Anything to Hurt You” is just about being a bad influence on somebody else — looking at my mistakes, and saying to someone else that they don’t have to go through the same shit. And the title track is about a death, a figurative death. I’ve always had a hard time connecting with people — both knowing what other people are thinking and telling people what I’m thinking. Songwriting is a way for me to speculate on what relationships are really like, or what another person’s intentions were when I really have no idea. So the title track is a personal song about my inability to open up to people — in relationships, specifically. My girlfriend used to say I had no heart. And she was fucking around with me, but that’s what inspired me to think, “What does it feel like to not have a heart? And what does it feel like to open yourself up but then have your heart crushed?” That song for me is about the struggle between closing yourself off to everything versus opening yourself up and dealing with pain. I’ve gotten better — I’m going to therapy, and I’ve gotten better at telling people what’s going on in my life, but before that I was totally closed off. So I think songwriting is a useful tool for me. It’s part of my process.

First things first: as you’ve probably noticed, we invited Moby to take over eMusic this week. He selected the interviews, he talked to us about his new record, and he also picked his 10 favorite records from the eMusic catalog. You can read the full batch of content here. Of his new record, Innocents, Ian Gittins says:

Innocents, his 11th studio album, may be the one to reverse that trend. Recorded entirely in his home studio, it shows the reflective electro-auteur is back on sublimely sure-footed form, balancing the euphoric glow of headphones techno at its most acute with the melancholic ache that has undercut all of his finest work. Where Play famously utilized samples of long-lost Delta blues and gospel alumni and Alan Lomax’s field recordings, this time Moby turns to contemporary leftfield figures for his nap hand of evocative other voices.

HAIM, Days Are Gone: If you have not heard anything from this record yet, I need to first ask: how have you not heard anything from this record yet? Why haven’t you heard anything from this record yet? Three sisters from LA straight-up made one of the best pop records of the year. This one is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED Barry Walters thinks so, too. He says:

Nearly every cut exudes the confidence of a single: There have already been four of them, and that doesn’t even count “If I Could Change Your Mind,” a soft-rock plea punctuated by handclaps and hi-hat from the disco gods. And yet there’s plenty of weirdness too: “My Song 5″ features not just Tom Waits-goes-dubstep moves and a righteous double-tracked fuzz bass solo, but also super-distorted virtual trombones that essentially fart along with the vocal. Wilson Philips never thought of that.

Lorde, Pure Heroine: Speaking of the best pop records of the year, New Zealand teenager Lorde has made another one of them. Good God, do I love this record. Lithe dance beats, smart, acerbic lyrics and gently bobbing melodies make for a basically perfect final package. Case in point: lead single “Royals” sounds like it’s an ode to empty materialism, until you listen closely to the lyrics and realize it’s actually a takedown of empty materialism. This one is also HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Jayson Greene says:

The songs on Pure Heroine are funny and legible and shrewd, sketching out a sharp framework and shading it in expertly. If New Zealand teenager Ella Yelich-O’Connor weren’t a solo performer, she’d make a successful behind-the-scenes hit writer. Her songwriting is more subdued and low-key than the radio chart pop of the moment — “Royals” is mostly a fingersnap of percussion, and “Ribs” is a rainy-windshield blur of synth pads and muted drums — but it’s blessed with this same supernatural acuity. These songs are smarter than any 17-year-old I’ve ever known, and smarter than a lot of 40-year-olds I know now.

Oneohtrix Point Never, R Plus Seven: Honestly this is just a non-stop week of RECOMMENDED albums. I’ve loved the strange, moody music Daniel Lopatin has made as Oneohtrix Point Never. R Plus Seven is another fascinating chapter in the ongoing riddle that is his career. It’s a good ‘un. Michaelangelo Matos says:

R Plus Seven is ambitiously detailed, each tendril of sound — whatever its source, human voice or digital static — seemingly painted onto the aural canvas with a fine brush. Maybe he was inspired by his December 2012 participation, with visual artist Nate Boyce, in a multimedia evening at New York’s Museum of Modern Art; there’s a fine-art quality to R Plus Seven‘s gradations. But there’s a public-spiritedness that it shares, along with a few compositional qualities, with the ’70s downtown New York minimalism in whose steps it proudly follows.

Those Darlins, Blur the Line: Alt-country cutups return with a record that is cleaner and more direct than previous efforts. The production is crisper, and the songs are less ragged and sloppy, making for pristine country-rock that goes down smooth.

Basia Bulat, Tall Tall Shadow: OK, look, I’m kind of a mark for Basia Bulat. Chalk it up to the fact that I was a huge 10,000 Maniacs fan when I was in my 20s, maybe? However you slice it: her third record is her strongest to date, and on its final triptych of songs she roams outside the folk-based instrumentation she’s become known for to areas that are darker and weirder and more unsettling. This one is RECOMMENDED Peter Blackstock says:

Bulat’s versatility with guitar, piano, autoharp and charango (a lute-like Andean instrument) allows her to compose on a broad canvas, allowing the tone of her material to range from haunting balladry reminiscent of classic English folk to moody explorations to the instantly engaging urgency of “It Can’t Be You” and the title track. Binding it all together is Bulat’s spectacular and singular voice: She draws you in as if you’re privy to an intimate conversation, then suddenly soars high with sweetness and grace, seeking a revelation somewhere in the astral plane.

Deltron 3030, Event II: Those of you out there wondering when David Cross, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, David Chang and Joseph Gordon-Levitt were going to be on a rap record: your day has come. Barry Walters says:

That kind of talent roster would be utterly top-heavy in lesser hands, but Nakamura’s finely finessed aesthetic specializes in off-the-wall excess: It’s everywhere on this retro-futurist opus. It’s unclear if the jazzy cop-show grooves that appear throughout out are sampled or freshly orchestrated; they sound like the former, but feel like the latter. All three brothers, despite the long hiatus, are right on time — even if it’s more than a little warped.

The Field, Cupid’s Head: The Field’s Axel Willner makes house music for the ears, not the body. It’s always rich and fascinating. Bill Brewster says:

Cupid’s Head continues Willner’s exploration of the fertile common ground between shoegaze and the wide-open spaces of Manuel Göttsching, or the post-acid house Wild Pitch mixes from Chicago’s DJ Pierre. Pierre, in a way, provides Willner’s template, with his layers of subtle keyboard sounds, treated vocals and percussion, the overall effect being an ever-ascending aural illusion of spiralling sounds. Willner’s samples, however, are microcosmic, sometimes less than a bar in length, and they stack up to provoke a sense of dizzying abandon and release.

Yuck, Glow & Behold: Poor Yuck, man. Just when that ship was leaving the dock, their lead vocalist leapt out and scurried into the arms of Neil Hagerty to make a solo album full of songs twice as long as they needed to be. Yuck soldiered on, though, god bless ‘em, and their second record is less Dino Jr and more MBV, full of big washes of sound tempered by guitarist Max Bloom’s gentle, cumulonimbus vocals.

“>Leverage Models, Leverage Models: Breezy, breathy electro-indie record from Shannon Fields, aka Leverage Models. Kind of a Lightning Seeds vibe in spots, kind of early Erasure vibe in spots. Fields’ parents were Pentecostal preachers, apparently, and there’s a definite sense of otherworldly euphoria to these songs. Sharon Van Etten sings on one of them. FYI.

The Four Mints, Gently Down Your Stream: Excellent sweet soul reissue from overlooked ’60s R&B group (via the always-excellent Numero Group), the songs on this record blend the gorgeous harmonies of doo-wop with the cotton-glove delivery of soul music. Also the title track has one of the best double-entendres I’ve ever heard in a pop song, and they get away with it by singing it like sweet nothings whispered in a lovers’ ear. This sucker is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Blind Boys of Alabama, I’ll Find a Way: Latest from legendary gospel group is jam-packed with guest spots, including Justin Vernon, tUnE-yArDs, My Brightest Diamond, Sam Amidon and more. And the extra bonus is that Blind Boys of Alabama on their own are awesome, so there’s that. This is grizzled, southern fried rock & roll, smoky and irresistible.

Dr. Dog, B-Room: More everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink rock songs from Philly group moseys around the corners of classic soul, ’60s rock, low-grade psychedelia and other dusty crate-digging styles. This one is as shaggy as previous outings, its songs having a loose, band-jamming-in-a-room feel.

Blitzen Trapper, VII: Portland roots-rockers roots-rock on back with another batch of batter-dipped choogle-core. Lots of Skynyrdy licks and Dylany vocals, as warm and worn as an old flannel shirt or as weathered as an old straw hat. That’s enough imagery right? No? As sturdy and slow-burning as the coals in a corncob pipe.

Elf Power, Sunlight on the Moon: Latest from long-running Elephant Sixers; where other bands in this collective took identifiable forbears (The Beatles, Beach Boys, etc) and turned them inside out, the Elves (as I call them in this writeup) forged their own weird path, dipping lo-fi indie rock in an acid bath, sounding at times like an ad-hoc Roxy Music.

The Fuzz, Fuzz: Ty Segall is at it again! Except, holy cow, this time it’s full-on Sabbath-sounding! I was not expecting this! The last time I saw Ty he covered “Paranoid,” but this is next level — a whole batch of sun-fried stoner jams, the kind of thing that would give Blue Cheer a run for their money or would sidle up nicely next to Masters of Reality. RECOMMENDED

Rapsody, The Idea of Beautiful: Rapsody was my favorite rapper in the group Kooley High, with a lightning-crack flow, gallons of attitude and a knack for incisive social commentary that didn’t feel like preaching. This is her full-length debut, and it’s a suitable showcase for her talent, situating her wry, young-Lauryn Hill flow amid smoky productions. RECOMMENDED

Melt-Banana, Fetch: Woo-hoo! More bonkers greatness from Japanese noiseniks is as scabrous and woozy as you might expect. Stabbing shards of guitars, panic-attack drums and desperate, yelping vocals make this one a spectacular blender of noise. Everythig is loud and moving at light speed, so fast it’s impossible to get your brain around it. This one is RECOMMENDED

Quasi, Mole City: In 1998, Quasi — Sam Coombes and Janet Weiss — made a record called Featuring “Birds”, and it was awesome. This is their new one. Douglas Wolk says:

Mole City is spilling over with crisp, witty rock songs, punctuated by bonus noise doodles. Weiss is a piledriving drummer most of the time (she tones it down when the songs call for it, but it’s really fun when she cuts loose), and Coomes favors super-fuzzed-out instrumental sounds and massive riffs to set off his weedy smart-alec voice. And they’re as locked into each other’s sense of rhythm as any two musicians can be.

Nelly, M.O: Is it getting hot in here, or is there a new Nelly record out today? Man, remember how Nelly was one of the biggest superstars on the planet, and then he released an individually packaged double-album Sweat and Suit, and then, mysteriously, he wasn’t anymore? Well, he’s back. The lead single from this kind of sounds like “The Whisper Song,” which doesn’t bode well for anyone. The rest is comprised of skittery beats topped with Nelly’s speak-sing delivery and a few naked bids for “Hot in Herrre 2: Electric Hot-aloo.”

Tired Pony, The Ghost of the Mountain: This band has a weird resume. It’s Peter Buck (naturally), the singer from Snow Patrol, Jacknife Lee (who produced recent R.E.M. and U2 records but will always and forever be known to me as the guitarist from Compulsion, the drummer from Belle & Sebastian and a bunch of other folks make a bunch of songs that sound more or less like what you’d guess a bunch of songs by those people would sound like.

When Moby requested we interview Cold Specks as part of his takeover of eMusic, we were all too happy to oblige. The debut from pseudonymous songwriter Al Spx topped our list of eMusic’s Best Albums of 2012, and her live show had grown more riveting and more assured each time we saw her. Her performance on Moby’s record Innocents contains all of the things that made her first album so stunning — enigmatic lyrics, deeply-felt vocals and a free-floating but undeniable sense of spirituality. eMusic’s editor-in-chief J. Edward Keyes caught up with Spx by phone to discuss her new record, her collaboration with Moby and her paralyzing perfectionism.

I’m interviewing you at Moby’s request, because he’s taking over our site for a week, but it’s kind of convenient — your album was our No. 1 record of last year.

I heard about that!

So I thought this would be a good time to see what you’ve been up to since then. Where are you right now?

I’m in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I’m in a studio recording some songs for the next record.

How long have you been working on that?

Well. I don’t know. It’s kind of — [pauses]. Some of the songs have existed for a while, some are brand new. We didn’t start tracking until maybe a month ago.

So there were still some songs from your original batch that didn’t make it on to I Predict a Graceful Expulsion?

There’s just one. It’s existed in many forms, and I finally forced the son of a bitch to give in recently. I won’t tell you which one. It’ll ruin the surprise.

I was going to ask if it was the one you were playing on tour.

Well, actually, OK — I got that wrong. There’s two that have existed in a few different forms. The one that you’re speaking of — where did you see me play?

I saw you at Glasslands, then at Mercury Lounge, then at Piano’s.

OK. So you probably heard a bunch of the new ones. There’s a song… [stops suddenly] I don’t want to say!

You don’t have to!

Oh, I’ll just say it, whatever. There’s a song called “All Flesh is Grass” and a song called “Let Loose the Dogs.” “All Flesh is Grass” is probably written around the same time as “Blank Maps,” but it didn’t make the first record because I hadn’t figured out the arrangement for it, and it’s taken a couple of years to get right. The other one was written when I first started touring.

You talk about these songs existing in a few different forms — how do you know when to say “stop”?

I know it’s done because when I listen to it, I become filled with delight and satisfaction, and I know that I can’t make it any better. My producer, Jim, and the assistant here are probably realizing that I’m incredibly anal when it comes to the studio, but these songs exist forever, so I just want to get them right. I’m kind of a perfectionist. I want and I need for everything to be absolutely as perfect as I can make it.

What was the moment you started becoming aware that the first record was really resonating with people?

I guess when I started to tour the record, I would notice the crowds start to get bigger. We’d be playing tiny shows in small towns in the middle of nowhere — like, say, Denton, Texas — and there would be loads of people who knew and loved the songs. I guess that’s when I started to realize that I was doing something right.

One of the things that really struck me about the record was the way you took Bible verses and either recontextualize them or manipulate them in certain ways. How conscious a choice was that?

Not very conscious. The record is a representation of loss in many forms — mostly just loss of several relationships. I studied English and noticed Bible verses are common in literature. It’s the best piece of fiction in the world as far as I’m concerned. There are some really beautiful lines in it, and some lines really just stuck out to me. I don’t really like to go into detail about what the songs are about. I’m a very private person and my songs are very vague and I really do love it when people interpret it and take it in different ways. I think it’s incredibly fascinating.

A lot of the story around the early record was about the falling out between you and your parents. From what I’ve read, it sounds like things are better now?

It’s all good in the hood. It was kind of blown out of proportion in the early days. It was mostly just growing pains, really. My parents wanted the best for me and they didn’t necessarily believe that music was the best for me at first, but they’ve come around. It’s all love.

Does that mean you’ll start using your real name?

[Laughs.] No, I’m a very private person. I write music and I enjoy doing it, but because I do it, I think it’s completely unnatural to perform day in and day out and give yourself to people — a collection of strangers — every night. I’d much rather have a stage name and remove myself from it all.

So you take on this persona of Al Spx to maintain a sense of self.

That’s exactly what it is. Al Spx is a character, and she exists because I created a project called Cold Specks, and people kept asking me who Cold Specks was. And I thought I’d given enough at first, but evidently I hadn’t [laughs]. So I came up with a stage name, and that’s all I’m willing to give. I just got so uncomfortable attaching my real name and myself to songs that are incredibly personal and have the tendency to be morbid. It’s not a reflection of me, and I don’t feel entirely comfortable with the songs completely defining me as a human being, because it’s just one side of me. So I have a stage name.

I’d imagine it also allows you a degree of sanity because you can step out of that character when you’re not performing.

Exactly. When I’m not touring, I go back to the girl I am and remember who I am as a human being. It can be incredibly grueling at times. Al Spx is a tough bitch and she can deal with that, but when I’m at home, I want to just be me.

One of my favorite lines is on “Blank Maps,” where you sing “I am a goddamn believer.” What are some things you believe in?

I’m not sure. I’m still figuring it out. That particular song is — [pauses]. That particular song is about a boy, and I think I was just trying to let him know some things.

Have any of the people these songs are about heard them?

Probably. [Laughs] I’m not sure. I don’t know. I’d rather not say.

Let’s talk about the new record. Thematically, how do the songs relate to the songs on the first record?

It’s different. They’re louder. There aren’t any acoustic guitars — I’ve been joking that I’ve gone all “Judas” on this record [laughs].

Is this for real, or are you doing that thing you like to do to interviewers where you pull my leg and then I report it?

[Laughs.] I’m not! I’m not. I’ve stopped doing that. It’s more playful this record. The first record was a delicate record, and it was a moment in time and a reflection of a fragile girl. For this record, I’ve grown a lot as a human being. The songs on the first record were written when I was a teenager and in my early 20s, and I’ve grown a lot since then. I think I also got a little tired of being depicted as an “emotional songwriter.” That sort of seeped into my songwriting. So this one’s just playful.

So more major-key songs?

I actually can’t answer that for you, but only because I don’t know anything about music. I play in two tunings, and they’re both, I guess, minor tunings — it’s always gonna be minor with Cold Specks — but I don’t actually know anything about music. I play guitar and write all the songs and I sit down with the boys and tell them what I want. Like I said, I’m incredibly anal in the studio.

I’m curious as to how you think other members of your band would describe working with you.

Chris Cundy, the woodwind player, has a phrase — he says I’m “predictably unpredictable.” And that’s accurate. I’m the most disgustingly indecisive person. I think I know what I want, but I really don’t.

Let’s talk a little bit about the collaboration with Moby — how did that come about?

We’re on the same label, Mute, and I think he was looking for singers and Daniel Miller from Mute mentioned me, so he looked up all my stuff and really liked it, and we just started working together.

Was the song already finished by the time it got to you?

“A Case for Shame,” he sent an instrumental. There’s a studio in London that I work in occasionally and I recorded some vocals and sent them back to him. It was a very creative and collaborative setup. The other song we actually recorded in his home studio. I had a day off on my last North American tour, so we stopped in L.A. and I went over to his house and recorded the second song. Very quickly, actually. He already had the instrumental and I had it for weeks but couldn’t come up with anything. The night before [we were recording] I scribbled some notes on my hotel notepad and went in and we did it in about an hour.

How is his process different from yours?

He’s not an anal piece of shit like I am.

That seems like you’re being pretty hard on yourself!

I like to think I’m funny with my harshness! [Laughs.] He goes with the flow, Moby. He doesn’t overanalyze. It’s something I learned from working with him. I can spend a lot of time just picking at things and just doesn’t do that. He’s a very free and open and creative man and he’s not at all disgustingly over analytical. It’s a really refreshing thing.

I’m sure some of that comes with experience, though.

Yeah, I’m only making my second record now. He’s had a lot of time to grow as an artist, so he knows what he wants and he gets there quickly.

I know you have a lot of influences outside of music. I was curious to know what you’re reading now.

There’s a book by Milan Kundera called Immortality that I just picked up the other day.

What kinds of books do you tend to be attracted to?

I like really descriptive stuff, and I like really short and sweet stuff as well. I like ‘em all.

Are you living in Canada when you’re not on the road?

I don’t live anywhere. I just finished touring. I’ll probably be moving back to London soon. I like it because it’s a very big city — I think it’s the best city in the world. It’s huge — there are cities within the city. So many people, so many things to do. It’s just a wonderful city.

Since Moby asked us to interview you as one of his favorite artists, I was wondering who you’ve been listening to lately and who you admire.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Scott Walker. Michael Gira from Swans. There’s this band from the UK called Savages that I really like.

I could almost hear a collaboration between you and Scott Walker.

Oh God, I would love that. The guy who did our latest music video did the video for that song “Epizootics!” from the last Scott Walker record. That’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to Scott Walker.

Drake, Nothing Was The Same: Oh, Drake. Drake, Drake, Drake. Beloved and loathed in equal amounts. So sad! So conflicted! Drake is one man, but he contains multitudes. You can figure out where you stand in the Great Drake Debate (Note to self: “Drakegate”?) of 2013 today. I liked Take Care a whole lot. I’ll stop there. Instead, I turn you over to Nick Murray, who says:

Nothing is something like rap’s version of Jordan’s Hall of Fame induction speech, the point where our hero stands at the top of his profession but still checks the kids who dissed him in high school and girls who turned a shoulder shortly thereafter. Where on “Tuscan Leather,” he’s “rich enough that I don’t have to tell ‘em that I’m rich,” on lead single “Started From the Bottom” (my mom’s favorite rap song since “Day ‘N’ Nite,” incidentally), he brags that “just a reminder to myself/ I wear every single chain even when in the house.”

Nirvana, In Utero – 20th Anniversary Remaster: And now, one of the greatest records of the last 20 years. Seriously, how great is this record? How earsplitting and angry and acrid and confrontational, even to this day? There are like 100 versions of the riessue naturally, because that’s the way things go these days: a single disc remaster, a deluxe edition that has the remaster, the controversially scrapped Steve Albini mixes at the end of the first disc, and a “2013 mix” of the album that sweetens things up a little (inspired, Krist Novoselic said, by the recent Doors reissues, which at long last justifies the existence of the Doors). Then there’s a Super Deluxe edition that features all of the above plus more B-Sides and the audio of the MTV Live & Loud special that aired around its release. IN OTHER WORDS, FANATICS, YOU DON’T HAVE A REAL COMPLAINT. I’ll leave it to you to decide which one you want most. Maura Johnston, who wrote this excellent Six Degrees of the album, says:

“Teenage angst has paid off well; now I’m bored and old,” Cobain drawls as the record opens; he had turned 26 during the album’s recording sessions. This slyly-expressed weariness defines much of In Utero; Cobain’s screeched “Get awayyy!” as Dave Grohl bashes behind him on the grimacing “Scentless Apprentice” could have been directed at any number of people lusting after his newfound fame, while the defiantly downcast “Rape Me” is a wide-eyed challenge for people to do their worst to one another, from the repurposed “Smells Like Teen Spirit” riff on down.

Deer Tick, Negativity: Speaking of Nirvana! Rhode Island band Deer Tick has a pretty good on-again/off-again side gig playing as Deervana, a Nirvana cover band that is like 300,000 times better than you’re even thinking. I’ve seen them twice, the most recent time being a few weeks ago when they played In Utero from start to finish, and it was amazing. This is what I mean right here. On their own, though, Deer Tick are great, the kind of whiskey-pickled country music that kicks and bucks. Their latest finds them calming down a bit, polishing up their ambling sound without losing any of the grit.

Mazzy Star, Seasons Of Your Day: And, hey, while we’re at it, there’s a new Mazzy Star record out today that way more people than I expected are excited about. The thing about Mazzy Star is that they are secretly one of the most influential bands on indie rock of the last 15 or so years — way, way more than the usual roster of bands that gets cited. So that should cheer up Hope Sandoval for like 6 seconds, maybe. Aww, I’m just kidding, gloomy! We love ya! Andrew Perry says:

Time often seems to stand still. The magic of old lights up every track, but there’s plenty on Seasons Of Your Day that furthers the Mazzy brief. The album glides into “In the Kingdom” on near-church-y organ riff, Sandoval imagining taking “a train into the city,” drifting out on an easy rhythm exquisitely coloured by Roback’s sublime, reverb-heavy electric twang.

Elton John, The Diving Board: Let’s just keep right on rolling with the comebacks with the latest from Sir Elton, produced by T Bone Burnett, who is kind of the Rick Rubin for people who don’t want their records to sound like they were recorded in a pitch-black airlock after being force-read the complete works of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. John’s voice is ragged but his classical piano work hasn’t been better. If you do nothing else with your day, you must read Barry Walters‘ stunning, no-note-left-unturned Icon piece on Sir Elton. It’s damn near perfect. Take that, Solzhenitsyn. Of the new record, Barry says:

As its artwork and song titles like “My Quicksand” suggest, this is Elton at his most serious, like the world-weary elements of Blue Moves without comic relief, or The Big Picture without synths. Continuing the T Bone Burnett alliance that began with 2010′s The Union, Elton generates beaucoup ballads here but few pop tunes: His keyboard melodies are consistently far more finessed than what he’s singing. His voice is at its most ragged, but his classical piano work has rarely been better, and there’s little to distract from those facts.

Kings of Leon, Mechanical Bull: Here’s a thing: I’m not overly mad at the Kings of Leon. In the course of my career as a rock critic, I’ve seen them live about 10 times, and those songs, little by little, won me over. The last time I saw them, they took the stage to Scott Walker’s “The Electrician.” Of the new one — their first after a long-ish hiatus — Ryan Reed says:

The make-or-break moment on Kings of Leon’s sixth LP is “Walk a Mile,” a grandiose, slow-burning arena-rock anthem built on lonely guitar twang, a ghostly choir, and pizzicato strings. Depending on what kind of fan you are, it’s either the band’s syrupy tipping point — or their maximalist masterpiece. Really, it’s both. They’re no longer the scrappy backwoods teens they started as, and their evolution has been subtle but substantive: They’ve embellished their sound with bits of fractured art-rock and honest-to-gosh country. But with Mechanical Bull, they’ve managed to synthesize all these elements in ways that feel fresh and vibrant.

CHVRCHES, The Bones of What You Believe: I am pretty on board with this band! Triumphant, starry-eyed electropop sweetened by Lauren Mayberry’s caramel vocals. If you caught the Knife on their way out of Anchorman 2 when they were still laughing about all the good parts and you asked them to write a song, this is how it might turn out. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Icona Pop, This Is Icona Pop: I am going to assume that you’ve already heard breakout hit “I Love It” on account of you have ears and this is the 21st Century. The rest of the record seeks to match that single’s cheeky exuberance; there’s lots of hot pink synth streaks, top-of-lungs choruses, four-on-the-floor fist-punk bass beats and an overall sense of exuberance and giddiness.

Jesu, Everyday I Get Closer to the Light from Which I Came: For a band known for their ominous drones and suffocating sounds, the latest from Justin Broadrick draws on unusual inspiration: his experiences as a first time parent. Then again, the last Sunn O))) record featured a guest spot by Teddy Ruxpin, so what do I know? This one is RECOMMENDED Jon Wiederhorn says:

The new album strikes a balance between the sprawling epics of old and the organic shoegazer rock of Jesu’s last couple of records. Motivated, perhaps, by a near-complete lack of sleep, Broadrick crafted, surreal, multi-layered songs that abound with ethereal sounds, yet hold together as concrete, multi-dimensional tracks. “Homesick” expresses the duality of being away from loved ones with a monochromatic drum machine beat, a droning down-tuned riff and a simple, celestial guitar line.

The Proctors, Everlasting Light: It’s possible that I haven’t been paying the closest attention, but it feels like it’s been a long, long time since there was a release by Shelflife Records. I was pretty obsessed with this label a while back — cotton candy C86-style twee pop, with a roster full of bands that emphasize pouty, vaguely Anglophilic melody lines. The Proctors are no different — heartsick choruses sit at the center of these spun-sugar jangle-pop songs. Sarah Records R.I.P.

Frankie Rose, Herein Wild: We love Frankie Rose, man. Her latest picks up, sonically, where the outstanding Interstellar left off, but it’s a little more earthy and moody and toothy where the former was drifting and ethereal. Annie Zaleski says:

Herein Wild feels like a logical progression from Rose’s past work. Like Interstellar, the record contains plenty of lush, keyboard-gilded indie-pop — highlighted by the lilting Sarah Records homages “Sorrow” and “Into Blue” and the burbling, Stereolab-like “Question Reason” — and textures influenced by the Cure’s bleakest early days (the frantic drums and deep-cutting bass line of “The Depths,” cyclone-like synth spirals on “Minor Times”). The difference is that Herein Wild‘s more deliberate approach adds gravitas to Rose’s longing and melancholy, and lightness to her more optimistic moments.

Fresh & Onlys, Soothsayer: It’s a testament to how prolific the Fresh & Onlys are that the fact that they haven’t released a record since last year makes it seem like they’ve been away forever. This is a short one — just six songs to tide us over until the next full batch of F&O jams. I could not find a track from this to embed basically anywhere. I tried. Lord knows I tried.

The Shondes, The Garden: The latest from Brooklyn band combines big, gleaming anthemic hooks with rushing violins and tense, nervy guitars. There’s a heft to these songs that commands attention — a confidence and a sense of purpose. Imagine a tougher take on the Pretenders or a less-melodramatic Amanda Palmer or Patti Smith at her best and you’re getting close. Huge hooks, delivered with gusto.

Tanya Morgan, Rubber Souls: AWESOME. First new Tanya Morgan record in a long, long time. I was in love with Brooklynati, but feels like a lifetime since that one came out. It’s been a long time, Tanya Morgan. You shouldn’t have left us. Nate Patrin says:

On Rubber Souls Tanya Morgan merge that spirit with a neo-soul vibe a decade ahead of their more direct lyrical influences. That live-band sound, provided by producer 6th Sense and a cast of sharp session players, switches things up ably — deep slow-ride bass murmurs and airy guitar strums on “The Day I,” mellow g-funk synth bounce on “Never Too Much,” funkadelic dark-alley foot-chase tension on “Pick It Up,” and snapping-tight snares throughout.

Ha Ha Tonka, Lessons: Big, booming, triumphant, kinda roots-rocky but honestly kinda just rocky outing from this four-piece would fit pretty comfortably alongside the aforementioned Kings of Leon outing (which, as we’ve covered already, I consider a compliment). The songs have drive and pulse and push and are richly-layered and rally around the kind of choruses that get stuck in your head before they’re even finished.

Oh Land, Wishbone: Eerie, fizzy synth-based pop music that’s bright and quirky. There’s a little bit of Ellie Goulding here, but it’s a shade darker and more forbidding than that; twitching guitars tiptoe through braille-book keyboards for smoky pop that’s strangely alluring.

Night Beats, Night Beats: I got way, way into the album this band made for Trouble in Mind back in 2011, and it doesn’t sound like they’ve lost a thing. What you’ve got here is some dark, doomy jangle-psych: bug-eyed acid-freakout vocals, booming tom-tom percussion and wavy, miragelike guitars. If you went to a party in the late ’60s at someone’s loft and there was a band playing at the front of the room while someone projected an educational movie about space over top of them, this is what that band would sound like. Probably someone would be idly banging a tambourine. This one is RECOMMENDED. Burger Records is putting out the cassette, because of course they are.

Golden Animals, Hear Eye Go: On that same label, the Reverberation Appreciation Society, come Golden Animals, who have the same kind of wall-of-echo approach as Night Beats, but they’re doomier and spookier. I’d compare them to the Doors, but how many times can one man mention the Doors in 2013? Besides, this is better: starker and spookier and with more translucence. RECOMMENDED

Georgia Anne Muldrow as Jyoti, Denderah: Georgia Anne Muldrow’s outer-space psych-jazz odysseys have been fascinating to me for a while now. Usually she sings, making the whole thing feel that much weirder and more psychedelic. This one is just instrumental, but that will suffice. This is more traditional than her usual left-field offerings, but still worth a listen.

TRAAMS, Grin: TRAAMS are a British band with a fondness for scuzz and snarl and tension. The songs on their debut are coiled knots, ragged guitars seething and hissing and vocalist Stu Hopkins wailing desperately above them. It’s a panicked, clawing record, one where the songs quake and tremble as if they’ve just witnessed something awful and violent. RECOMMENDED

National Wake, Walk in Africa: 1979-81: This is awesome. Here’s the deal: National Wake were formed in South Africa in 1978 and drew not only from the local polyrhythmic traditional music, but also from super spiky UK post-punk like Gang of Four and early Wire. The result is gloriously kinetic music, beats that ping-pong around like super bounce balls in a concrete shed, vocals that are snarling while still being defiantly melodic. Only 700 copies of this album were ever released before it was withdrawn under government pressure. It is a lost classic, ripe for rediscovery. It’s also HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Au Revoir Simone, Move in Spectrums: Alongside the Oh Land and the CHVRCHES, Au Revoir Simone are the OG’s of the wistful, synthy game. This one is less mysterious than their earlier outings, more rooted in confident pop melodies and forthright choruses — the sound of someone yanking back the black curtains and letting the sun pour in.

Girls Against Boys, The Ghost List EP: This is a new Girls Against Boys EP! You know what that means: lots of stomach-turning, grimy instrumentation (“Fade Out” knicks Suicide’s “Ghost Rider” like M.I.A. did before them) with a lot of dead-pan non-linear lyrics so that the end result is something like The Hold Steady reading every third word of a William Gibson novel while some infernal punk band grinds away behind them. If you have never heard a Girls Against Boys song, this might not be the place to start (also I do not recognize the world in which you live) but long time fans will be psyched.

Totally Slow, Totally Slow: Revved-up pop-punk from this North Carolina band that lands somewhere between Japandroids and Knapsack, with a healthy dash of early ’00s mall punk for good measure. That’s not a dis, even though it sounds like one. There’s just the tiniest bit of polish, but a whole lotta gruff. Which, coincidentally, is the tagline to the new series of romance/hardboiled detective novels I’m working on, The Adventures of Louie Casanova.

Touche Amore, Is Survived By: Freaked-out screamo with throat-ruining vocals and peak-and-collapse dynamic. Suddenly, all of the kids are discovering late ’90s emo at once, man. This is the next big revival. You heard it here first. And you heard it everywhere like 15 years ago.

Heaven’s Gate, Transmuting: Spike the fangs-bared fury of hard rock with the ether-huffing wooze of shoegaze and you get Heaven’s Gate, a band of fantastic ferocity and terrifying volume. There’s a kind of goth doominess to the proceedings, but what it has above all else is a kind of unshakable violence. It’s RECOMMENDED

Allen Toussaint, Songbook: Two gigs at New York’s Joe’s Pub are captured here. Britt Robson says:

Toussaint’s dignified yet unpretentious personal style extends to his music. Crooning, melisma and smooth shifts in rhythm are deployed sparingly but to maximum effect in his vocals, so that even the quasi-novelty tunes he turned into hits with Lee Dorsey nearly 50 years ago (“Holy Cow,” “Working In A Coal Mine”) don’t clash with his versions of poignant ballads he minted for Irma Thomas (“It’s Raining”), Etta James (“With You In Mind”) and Esther Phillips (“Sweet Touch of Love”). And his piano work — a silkier variation on Professor Longhair’s second-line style — epitomizes New Orleans funk-and-roll, especially on a glorious medley of “Certain Girl,” “Mother-in-Law,” “Fortune Teller” and “Working in a Coal Mine,” and his instrumental take on the classic “St. James Infirmary.”

Various Artists, Rough Guide to Voodoo: I repped for these Rough Guides here in last week’s installment, and I continue to do so this week. They’re really good! This one first and foremost dispels the notion of Voodoo as some weird cult thing as depicted in movies of yore; rather, it’s simply a Hatian tribal religion with its own songs and chants and music. This compilation concentrates on the influence of that music both in Africa and America (there’s a Dr. John song, for example). A fascinating study.

Sting, The Last Ship: Sting has, apparently, had a pretty severe case of writer’s block for the last few years. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

Elvis Costello & The Roots, Wise Up Ghost: I was lucky enough to attend last night’s show at Brooklyn Bowl where Costello & Company premiered these songs alongside with a host of EC classics. I can say first and foremost — as I have in this space many, many times — that the Roots are one of my favorite bands, and that I genuinely think they rival Radiohead in terms of their fascination with the possibilities of sound, and their dogged determination to experiment each time out. To spend any length of time with their studio albums — giving them real, concentrated listens — is to marvel at the master craftsmanship. Their pairing with Costello is a natural one. Both EC and ?uestlove are walking music encyclopedias, and Costello over the last few years is one of the few veteran performers who still displays a remarkable willingness to push himself. Even when he fails, you can’t accuse him of being complacent. Fortunately, the pairing is a win/win — Wise Up Ghost is the nerviest and edgiest Costello has sounded in years. It gets a hearty RECOMMENDED. It’s also an album with layers. Douglas Wolk dug deep into its catalog of hat-tips and references for us in this head-spinning piece that you should make some time to read. Of the record, he says:

The new Costello/Roots collaboration Wise Up Ghost — mostly recorded in the Roots’ dressing room for their regular gig on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon — sounds like the product of a couple of intense music nerds cheerfully impressing each other, and it’s drenched in musical history. Costello’s always been a habitual quoter of and alluder to other people’s songs, but the curious thing about Wise Up Ghost is that the catalog Costello spends most of his time revisiting is his own. It’s a remarkable record, the most surprising and challenging album Costello has made in many years.

Sebadoh, Defend Yourself: This is the first new Sebadoh record in 14 years! Holy shit! And it’s pretty good. God, remember The Sebadoh? That record was absolutely not good. But Barlow is back, the music is toothy and he’s as ornery as ever (as his biting, 100% accurate takedown of Don Henley for the AV Club proves, though he loses points for defending the Eagles because come on.) Defend Yourself is RECOMMENDED Michaelangelo Matos says:

What can it mean when a band whose defining trait was angst comes back after 14 years and sounds exactly the same? That’s Sebadoh’s Defend Yourself, their first full album since 1999′s The Sebadoh, whose ballad-heaviness made it among the lesser-loved items in the band’s catalog. The folks who missed the gnarlier guitars and faster tempos of classics like 1994′s Bakesale have their wish granted here. Defend Yourself is outright sprightly in places, whatever the lyrical temper. The album carries its makers’ age gracefully — the craft makes even the crabbier moments sing.

The Dirtbombs, Ooey Gooey Chewy Ka-Blooey!: Detroit garage punkers successfully dive headfirst into the world of bubblegum on this HIGHLY RECOMMENDED new album. Evan Minsker says:

They studied the cheerful hooks from Saturday morning cartoons and the Archies’ discography, and then, they turned that research into an album filled with sunshine, lollipops, sugar and spice, etc. Ooey Gooey is packed with idealistic notions, schoolyard elation, phrases like “eenie meenie miney mo” and words like “groovy.” It’s happy, but the menace in their fuzz pedal stops it from ever nearing schmaltz. It’s 2013; who knew that a “punks meet the Banana Splits” record would be so compelling?

MGMT, MGMT: I might be more-or-less alone in thinking this band has gotten more fascinating as they’ve gotten more obstinate, but that’s the life I choose to live, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I repped pretty hard for their last album as a bold change-in-direction. This one seems even more obtuse, ladling on the heavy psychedelia. Good weird, or weird for its own sake? Only you can decide.

Islands, Ski Mask: Controversially, I never really liked The Unicorns. Which is pretty irrelevant to be bringing up at this point, since that band existed for one album like 68 years ago. Nick Thorburn has gotten a little more stately with his songwriting, putting those quirks to actual use. Ski Mask retains all of his trademark idiosyncracies, but puts them in service of meticulously-constructed pop songs. “Becoming the Gunship,” with its yearning chorus, is the closest to a power ballad he’s ever written, and “Nil” sounds like a revisionist take on German beer bar polka.

Windhand, Soma: Incredible, HIGHLY RECOMMENDED second LP from Virginia doom metal band Windhand is like chasing 10 bottles of NyQuil with a long session at the Ouija Board. It is phenomenal. In my review, I say:

To be overly flip about the album’s spectacularly suffocating lethargy is to short-sell its incredible power. Punishingly slow without every feeling airlocked or plodding. Far from it: Instead, there’s a gravity and severity to Soma that’s utterly skin-crawling. The closest sonic touchstone is Electric Wizard’s towering obelisk of horror Dopethrone, but where that record often had fangs bared and knives drawn, Soma‘s power feels more insidious and spectral and otherworldly. That grim grey shack on the album cover may as well be the haunted cabin where the witch from the first Black Sabbath record lives.

AVICII, True: This guy. So the thing to know about AVICII is that he’s a Swedish DJ considered one of the leading lights in the alarmingly-popular EDM movement — the slicked-up mainstream version of electronic music that’s kind of everywhere. But so then when he played the Ultra Music Festival in March, he unveiled a bunch of songs that apparently had some kind of crazy artisan small batch suspender-folk angle? Well, apparently it made it to the record, because the first song is straight-up barrel-booting tobacky-core. The rest of the album mixes that approach with the dancier stuff he’s become known for. You can decide what you make of this, but I’m pretty sure this is the first electronic-to-country crossover record ever. I guess look for Burial’s all John Denver covers record next.

Crystal Stilts, Nature Noir: Latest from onetime eMusic Selects alum is somewhat sunnier than they’ve been in the past. I was a huge fan of their last album, Alight in Night, which felt like the full culmination of the doom-core blueprint they’d been refining for some time. This one expands even further. Ian Cohen says:

Now ten years into their career, Crystal Stilts have about five decades worth of ironclad credibility giving them reason to stay the course on their third LP Nature Noire. There are certain, incremental tuneups that sound colossal within Crystal Stilts’ fully-formed aesthetic: real-deal strings illuminate “Memory Room” and “Future Folklore” integrates blue-collar classic rock of the 60s into their 70s-based, all-black art-rock. But the quintet aren’t going to fundamentally alter what got them here in the first place – rhythmic interplay that never advances beyond “perpetually hungover” and Brad Hargett’s baritone drawl going for “Most Dour Man in Brooklyn,” something like The National’s Matt Berninger for the non-showered, non-blue-blazered.

Keep Shelly in Athens, At Home: The Greek outfit has hints of Robert Smith and Cocteau twins on their second album. We talked to this band over a year ago. I liked them then, and I like them now:

Its opening track — titled, naturally, “Time Exists Only to Betray Us” — thunders into existence: a big boom of bass, a rain of glass-shard synths and Sarah’s Stevie-Nicks-as-Lady-Macbeth wail arriving in one shattering cataclysm of sound and light. From there, the album maintains its ether-clawing aerialism, stirring Sarah’s liquid sugar voice into milky-blue synths and serving it in a frosted champagne flute. It’s called At Home, but that’s only if you’ve got a sweet deal on a lake view somewhere in the mesosphere.

The Naked & Famous, In Rolling Waves: Pretty tremendous amount of buzz behind this New Zealand group. Bright, blinking synths and defiant vocals make for a batch of late-night, yearn-heavy dance-pop jammers. A subtler Icona Pop?

HSY, HSY: Grinding, scuzzy, pigfuck-by-way-of-shoegaze (I’ll let you come up with your own name for that one) this record is a beast. The guitars are as jagged as rusty hunting knives, and they saw up the center of these songs with genuine malice and ill-will. Pair that with howling, menacing vocals and you’ve got the perfect soundtrack to a back-alley brawl. RECOMMENDED

Various Artists, The Rough Guide to Bollywood Disco: I’ve said this before, but these Rough Guide albums are great, and I feel like they don’t get nearly the attention of, like, Analog Africa or Soundway (who are also great!) because their packaging is so naff, and it looks like Starbucks World Music for Bored Suburbanites or something. Don’t make that mistake! The people who put these comps together know what they’re doing. This one is full of great, loopy, intoxicating Bollywood Disco songs that have all the pulse & rush of their American counterparts but with intoxicating Indian melodies. RECOMMENDED

Cult of Luna, Vertikal II: Spooky Swedish group returns with four imposing songs that total one terrifying half-hour of music. I’m pretty into this: creeping and claustrophobic, the band builds songs slowly, ramping up the tension moment by moment until it explodes.

Blouse, Imperium: I really like this band. Captured Tracks group writes songs that are filmy and hazy, but are always rooted in solid melodies. Some of this stuff can float away in the ether, but Blouse feel more assured than most, walling in the mist with thick lines
of guitar.

Lake, The World is Real: Forthrightly-titled album from quirk-tastic Olympia band has moments tha kind of remind me of a more playful Sea & Cake. Can you imagine! Other times it sounds like a super-slowed down version of Apples in Stereo’s Tone Soul Evolution. So, somewhere on that spectrum you will find your answer.

Lucy Rose, Like I Used To: British singer/songwriter with as serious Dido vibe delivers delicately-skipping acoustic guitars and cappucino-smooth vocals for your early-fall front-porch chilling-out soundtrack.

Dog Bite, LA EP: Drifting, dreamy batch of songs that puts a premium on mood and texture. Vocals drift by on milky rivers of synth, songs are languid and bob like kites in a light breeze.

Pinkish Black, Razed to the Ground: Grinding, driving and doomy. There are some metallic overtones, to be sure, but there’s also a fair amount of hostile post-punk — like Joy Division blasting in the middle of a steel-pressing plant — and sinister drone.

Sub Rosa, More Constant Than the Gods: This band’s last record was a jaw-dropper, a stomach-thumping blast of demonic doom metal set alight by the menacing vocals of frontwoman Rebecca Vernon. This one is somehow even better, moodier, more controlled, more potent. Fans of, say, early Swans or Junius are going to love this. It’s melodic, but suffocating and imposing; electric violins lend the songs a gothic edge, but in a way that feels truly eerie. This record is phenomenal, and is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Sun Araw, On Patrol:I really, really like this dude. His work is eeire and intoxicating and spooky without being overbearing. He creates whole dark worlds to live inside. On Patrol first came out in 2010; it’s been reissued, and it’s RECOMMENDED. Abby Garnett says:

These nine compositions, which lean heavily on improvisation, take well-crafted textures and then subtly warp them through repetition. Earlier works, like 2009′s Heavy Deeds, exploited immediately recognizable elements of psychedelia — Theremin-like wailing, reverberating vocal swashes, the modal drone of Indian ragas — but On Patrol finds Stallones plucking through his influences’ gutted frames and re-evaluating the usefulness of their parts. As a result, the sound is leaner, more pointed, and moves closer to the mantric ideal of drone.

Billy Currington, We Are Tonight: Long-running country singer returns with his fifth record in 10 years. 10 years! The second song has a pretty cool “Where It’s At”-style organ and some kind of dodgy lyrics about picking up girls at bars. Country music! Currington’s got a rich voice, though, and a knack for kick-back, boots-on-the-table melodies. Sorry that it looks like you have to watch a commercial for that bullshit Fox show Dads before you can see the above video.

Sisu, Blood Tears: Ex-Dum Dum Girl Sandy Vu delivers an album that swings from twitchy, ’80s-style pastel-guitar pop to lush, swirling shoegaze. There’s an air of menace, as you might guess.

Arp, More: Arp never fall too far from the ’70s on their latest. Andy Beta says:

Opener “High-Heeled Clouds,” with its buoyant upright piano line, could come right out of John Cale’s Paris 1919, while the gentle “Daphne & Chloe” with its “bah-bah”s serve as an elegant update of The Velvet’s “I Found a Reason.” Cribbing from the VU playbook is nothing new, but Arp also investigates those who did the same, like Bowie and Eno. “A Tiger in the Hall at Versailles” mixes wordless vocals, puttering drum machine and harpsichord like some strange “Heroes” outtake. And the catchy “Judy Nylon” namechecks Eno’s girlfriend and emulates the buzzing siren guitars and snare thwacks of “Camel in the Needle’s Eye.”

Carcass, Surgical Steel: Grindcore pioneers return with another blast of blinding fury. The guitars dart around like weaponized hummingbirds, zipping and zig-zagging above full-arrhythmia percussion. It is a skull-crushing blast of fury.

Clear Soul Forces, Gold PP7s: Detroit group that was mentored by Royce da 5’9″, the group blends old-school style rapping with production that’s at once nostalgic and future-facing. The backdrop on “Freq Freq” recalls the early days of neo soul, but it’s shot though with plenty of neo-soul flange. “Sparring Session” is backward-looking beatbox banger that serves as a showcase for the group’s toothy rhyme style

A Storm of Light, Nations to Flames: A more aggressive and (gasp!) straightforward album from the cinematic post-metal band. This record is rad, and is RECOMMENDED Jon Wiederhorn says:

The songs are more structured and compact, the riffs more rigid, and there’s a distinct industrial element to the distorted vocals and abundant samples. There’s also a new diversity to the tempos. “All the Shining Lies” trudges and tumbles like Godflesh; “Apostles of Hatred” and “Omen” are considerably faster and more torrential, bringing to mind High on Fire. And the largely muted main guitar part on “Disintegrate” is surprisingly reminiscent of Metallica’s “Whiplash.”

Chris Forsyth, Solar Motel: Dreamy, vaguely droney outing from this guitarist imagines what might have happened if John Fahey had been on Siltbreeze. There are lots of lovely, finger-picked passages, but also plenty of tension and blank-eyed pattern-creating. It’s riveting stuff. RECOMMENDED

CCR Headcleaner, Lace the Earth With Arms Wide Open: 2013: Trasheriffic! Pretty awesome gSan Francisco arbagecore band sneer above gunk-covered guitars, trading off between putrefied sludge-rockers and scotch-taped sad boy ballads. Also this was put out by a label called Pizza Burglar, which is awesome.

Berlin, Animal: When I was 16 my dad took me to see Top Gun and in the middle of this whole overblown, over-loud, vaguely homoerotic coin-op movie comes a really long sex scene between Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis to pretty much the entirety of the Berlin song “Take My Breath Away” and I remember sitting there next to my dad with my face on fire thinking, “GOOD GOD WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER HOW LONG IS THIS SONG.” That band has a new record out today.

Throwing down an iron-gray, 2 trillion-pound gauntlet on their sophomore album

Once upon a time, the surest way for young metal bands to best their competitors was to practice and practice and practice until they could play faster and fiercer than anyone within swinging distance. But the recent, welcome uptick in doom bands (Morne, Pilgrim) suggests that these days, the true lords of the dark are the ones who take their time. Into that Mephistophelian molasses come Richmond, Virgina’s Windhand, who throw down an iron-gray, 2 trillion-pound gauntlet on their stunning second record Soma by ending with a song that’s — wait for it! And wait! And wait! — a half-hour long. Take that, Pallbearer!

To be overly flip about the album’s spectacularly suffocating lethargy is to short-sell its incredible power — it’s punishingly slow without ever feeling airlocked or plodding. Instead, there’s a gravity and severity to Soma that’s utterly skin-crawling. The closest sonic touchstone is Electric Wizard’s towering obelisk of horror Dopethrone, but where that record often had fangs bared and knives drawn, Soma‘s power feels more insidious and spectral and otherworldly. That grim grey shack on the album cover may as well be the haunted cabin where the witch from the first Black Sabbath record lives.

Credit much of that to the chilling delivery of vocalist Dorthia Cottrell, who has mastered what Scott Walker has been after ever since his deep plunge into the avant-garde: delivery that’s utterly, terrifyingly devoid of emotion. Cottrell sings like she’s in some unbreakable trance, an inconsolable howl rising from the center of a windstorm. “Cassock” is relentless, guitars thick and suffocating as black smoke, billowing up and out to fill every visible space, Cottrell’s disembodied wail somewhere in the middle. “Boleskine,” that 30-minute world-swallower, is designed with the brutal precision of The Scavenger’s Daughter: death-folk acoustic strum gets suddenly suffocated by tarpit guitars, Cottrell glides wraithlike through the fog, and the whole thing culminates in a guitar solo that sounds more like a never-ending full-body sob.

But it’s not all terror and volume. In the grim ballad “Evergreen,” Cottrell promises, “You won’t suffer long” over an unplugged King Dude-style minor-key chord pattern, making the record’s most terrifying moment also its quietest.

The sound of an airborne band returning to earth

When Lindsay Zoladz interviewed Keep Shelly in Athens for us in January of last year, frontwoman Sarah P talked briefly about her background as an actress. “That’s how I learned to be on stage,” she explained. “I can’t say to Actor Sarah, ‘Don’t come up on stage with me.’ No, she’s always with me. She’s an actor, she wants to be on stage.” She apparently wants to be on records, too: The group’s ice-cold, palace-of-glaciers debut — arriving three years after their misty, cryptogrammic early EPs — is defined by its deliberate grandeur. Its opening track — titled, naturally, “Time Exists Only to Betray Us” — thunders into existence: a big boom of bass, a rain of glass-shard synths and Sarah’s Stevie-Nicks-as-Lady-Macbeth wail arriving in one shattering cataclysm of sound and light. From there, the album maintains its ether-clawing aerialism, stirring Sarah’s liquid sugar voice into milky-blue synths and serving it in a frosted champagne flute. It’s called At Home, but that’s only if you’ve got a sweet deal on a lake view somewhere in the mesosphere.

Lyrically, the group traffics in riddles, but Sarah sells it like it’s Noel Coward. In the jittery drum-n-bass paraphrase “Madmen Love,” she heaves herself into lines like “Beautiful lies/ Smiles under conscious minds,” her Greek accent twisting the syllables inside out and rendering the words even more obtuse. The plan — deliberate or otherwise — works: You stop trying to decipher what she’s saying and instead just enjoy hearing her say it. She pouts the titular lyric of “Stay Away” like a young Robert Smith — himself a master of making meaningless lyrics profound by sheer force of performance. The album eventually eases into a gentle glide — the warm-blanket wraparound “Sails” mimics the similarly inscrutable beauty of Cocteau Twins. The album ends with “Back to Kresnans Street,” an avenue located in the band’s hometown of Kypseli in Athens (the mispronunciation of which gave the group its name). It flares up and fizzles out in just 90 seconds, like a bit of flash paper or a Fourth of July sparkler — the last remnants of a peaceful dream that stick around just long enough to mix with the morning sun.

Janelle Monae, The Electric Lady: FINALLY. It feels like a small eternity since the last Janelle Monae record, but the years have only heightened and deepened her bonkers, otherworldly outlook. Her new record is here at last and — guess what? — it’s HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Barry Walters says:

The Electric Lady is much more than a monument to maximalism, though. It’s a testimony to the power of particularly female and African-American dreams well-honed and not afraid to freak. Interspersed with radio DJ breaks that only lightly allude to the Cindi Mayweather cyborg narrative of her previous releases, The Electric Lady is nothing less than concept album about black female empowerment via love, otherness and heaps of Hendrix-kissed guitar solos courtesy of Kellindo Parker, who, together with Monáe, Nate “Rocket” Wonder, Chuck Lightning and Roman GianArthur comprise the extraordinary Wondaland posse that write, play and produce this deliciously effusive stuff.

The Clash, Sound System, 5 Studio Album Set and Hits Back: THESE ARE A LOT OF DIFFERENT WAYS INTO THE CLASH CATALOG. Let’s go in reverse order. Hits Back is, as it sounds, a double-disc Greatest Hits comp, sequenced to follow the setlist of a show the group played at Brixton Fair Deal in July of 1982. Insert your own crowd noise, I guess? 5 Studio Albums you can probably figure out (I like to think of this as another elaborate effort to officially erase Cut the Crap from the band’s discography) and finally Sound System, which has all of the albums (except, once again, Cut the Crap), plus 3 discs of rarities, B-Sides, demos & otherwise. A CORNUCOPIA OF CLASH. A CLASHUCOPIA. I mean, come on. If you somehow don’t have at least the studio albums already, this is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

Arctic Monkeys, AM: This band occupies a curious place — almost-superstars that are massive in the UK but never-quite-happened over here, the Monks (as they are known to me and basically no one else) have instead produced a steady string of durable, well-construced rock records of which this is the latest. Oh those Monks. Always up to something. Maura Johnston says:

Hangovers happen. The Arctic Monkeys — the brash British band led by the acid-voiced, silver-tongued Alex Turner — know this all too well. Their inaugural single hinged on a dancefloor fantasy; the lead single from their last album was hatched at a bar. The title of their fifth album, AM, could be seen as an attempt to get back to basics by going the acronymic route; but the bleary-eyed, moving-through-swamp feel makes it seem like a direction to play the album in the morning, preferably while you’re trying to figure out the coming hours through the headachy haze of what happened the night before.

The Weeknd, Kiss Land: The Weeknd’s latest is a testament to how touring and excess can take over the mind, body and soul. Probably he should have a paper, rock, scissors with the indie band The Weekend because I’m getting pretty tired of having to explain which one I’m talking about all the time. Barry Walters says:

Kiss Land is a regressive worldview where women are represented either by prostitutes/strippers/groupies or long-suffering hometown girlfriends; drugs are ever-present, and Nix is as necessary as toothpaste. Such excess ordinarily lends itself to comical clichés. Yet singer/lyricist Abel Tesfaye avoids the Spinal Tap effect by emphasizing the physical and emotional brutality of his vagabond existence.

2 Chainz, B.O.A.T.S. II #MeTime: This is basically my favorite album title of the year. Come to think of it, what you think of that album title will probably clue you in to what you’re gonna think about 2 Chainz. He isn’t known for rhymes so much as posture, and there’s plenty of that here — chest-swelled stunting, brand-name name-drops and attitude, attitude, attitude. The production is high-gloss club-style twinkle-and-bounce. Somehow this is being released at the end of the summer instead of the beginning of it, which seems like a colossal miscalculation to me.

Goldfrapp: Annabel on Nowness.com

Goldfrapp, Tales of Us: More high drama and higher costumes from Alison Goldfrapp & Co. eMusic’s Barry Walters — who’s on a real roll this week — says:

This time around, Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory focus mostly on acoustic instrumentation — primarily guitar, strings and piano — while maintaining their exacting control over their instrumentation’s sonic impact. There’s far too much studio processing and thickly arranged orchestration on their sixth album to deem the results folky or unfinished. And all the billowing softness on display doesn’t make for straightforward easy listening; the harmonies are constructed in such a way that tension rarely dissipates.

Madonna, MDNA World Tour: And speaking of Goldfrapp, here’s a new Madonna record. This is a live recording from her last world tour. The version of “Like a Virgin” on here is really good. Seriously! I don’t know, man. People still give Madonna grief, but I think her live sets are always cannily constructed, with an eye toward using the songs to construct a narrative. But what do I know?

Holy Ghost!, Dynamics: The New York duo’s sophomore album can be taken seriously even off the dancefloor (though it certainly belongs there too). Annie Zaleski says:

On their second full-length, Dynamics, the duo — comprised of two life-long friends and musical collaborators, Alex Frankel and Nick Millhiser — amplify their pop tendencies and diversify their sound. Dynamics expands to encompass sugary new, chugging synthpop, New Order-style electropop and ’80s R&B slow jams. Holy Ghost! has always created dance music with aspirations to be taken seriously outside of clubs or parties. Thanks to finely sculpted hooks, straightforward melodies and Frankel’s increasingly confident vocals, Dynamics reaches — and exceeds—this goal.

Forest Fire, Screens: Beautiful, ethereal post-rocky outing from this Brooklyn band combines the best elements of the Silver Apples and Can into a bright, brilliant, ethereal package. I want you to know how much I resisted saying that they “put the Silver Apples in a Can” right there. You can thank me later. I’m overselling the krautiness of this. But, you know, I really tend to relish writing about kraut, so. (OK. I’m done.) This one is RECOMMENDED

Heathered Pearls, Loyal Reworks: Heathered Pearls, aka Jakub Alexander, released the lush and moody Loyal last year. Those who loved that record will likely love this: a full-album remix featuring contributions by Foxes in Fiction, Teen Daze and more. It’s moody and soothing and gentle.

J. Roddy Walston & the Business, Essential Tremors: J. Roddy & His Business have been around for a hot minute now, dishing out their grit-under-the-nails take on classic rock & roll. There’s some of the bash ‘n’ shamble of Exile on Main Street here, but its kinda filthier and sleazier. Like, sleazier than Deer Tick, even, if you can imagine. That’s some serious sleaze. Sleaziness is his business, and business is…

Drive-By Truckers, Alabama Ass Whuppin’ (Reissue): Reissue of a rollicking 1999 DC live show by the Truckers, captured just before their Southern Rock Opera breakthrough, at their wound-up, unhinged, outta-control best.

Jimmy Webb, Still Within The Sound Of My Voice: Here is the thing about Jimmy Webb: “Wichita Lineman” is one of the 10 or 15 greatest songs of all time. Period. If you hear that and are not moved, you are some kind of cyborg monster, and you should re-evaluate your life choices. Webb’s latest album shines a light on some of the via duets with the likes of Lyle Lovett, Amy Grant, Keith Urban and Brian Wilson. Peter Blackstock says:

“Sleeping in the Daytime,” from his 1970 debut, never charted for anyone, but Lyle Lovett pushes him to a dynamic remake of the tune here. On “Where’s The Playground Susie,” a minor Glen Campbell hit in 1969, Webb finds another country singer who gets the power of a great melody in Keith Urban. The graceful ballad “Adios,” a late-’80s album highlight for Ronstadt, is a perfect fit for the rich warmth of Amy Grant’s voice. And when Webb does turn to one of his major songs — the pop-classical juggernaut “MacArthur Park” — he taps no less than Brian Wilson to fill in the multilayered harmonies.

Jacuzzi Boys, Jacuzzi Boys: I love these dudes. Power garage trio from Miami — Miami! — blends serrated riffing with snarl & posture and primping, like a bargain basement version of The Sweet. Plenty o’ attitude, even more hooks. RECOMMENDED

Bestial Mouths “White Eyes” from Bestial Mouths on Vimeo.

Bestial Mouths, Bestial Mouths: Apocalyptic synth-rock is the cold sound of distilled horror. Doomy vocals and icicle streaks of synths make this one a magnificent fright show. RECOMMENDED, especially if you ever wondered what Grace Jones fronting Front 242 might sound like.

Tal National, Kaani: Highlife 2013: Tal National delivers bright, skipping songs that draw on the legacy of his nation’s musical heritage while updating it with a decidedly jagged, indie slant. eMusic’s Richard Gehr says of this RECOMMENDED record:

West Africa’s largest nation, Niger, has one of the region’s smallest musical profiles. But that should change once the world gets wind of Kaani, the thrilling third album (and first export) by Tal National, a Niamey-based group that emits as much jubilant energy as any on at least a couple of continents. Formed in 2000 by guitarist (and current municipal judge) Hamadal “Almeida” Moumine, Tal National combines high-speed contrapuntal guitar lines, hard chikita-chikita beats, and chattering mbalax-flavored talking drums into a breakneck polyrhythmic skein.

Frightened Rabbit, Late March, Death March: The latest single from the Frabbits’ excellent last record gets augmented with three excellent unreleased songs, making this more like an EP than a one-off single. The songs maintain the sheen of Pedestrian Verse, but have the kind of nervous tension for which FR have become famous.

Terry Malts, Nobody Realizes This is Nowhere: Clever title, jokers! What’s next, Moss Sometimes Naps? San Fran punk wiseasses deliver another batch of surly, burly ramrodders that sound like what the Ramones might have sounded like if they were fronted by Barney from New Order. In other words: big, grimy hooks, delicate vocals and reckless energy galore.

The Orwells, Who Needs You: I am pretty into this! Scrappy, poppy garage ‘n’ roll group; half of this is produced by Dave Sitek from TV on the Radio, but you’ll get none of the dense, layered arty stuff here — this is good, greasy, bouncy, hooky rock & roll with throat-shredding vocals and riotous riffs.

Man Man, On Oni Pond: The Philly group has matured without becoming boring, which is more than I can say for myself. Austin L. Ray says:

This kinder, gentler Man Man — which, all things considered, will shock no fans of the group — hits plenty of excellent notes throughout On Oni Pond. “Pink Wonton” is an organ-and-horns rollicker; “Head On” a gorgeous ode to love (“Hold on to your heart!” Honus proclaims in the chorus. “Never let nobody drag it under.”); “Deep Cover” is a plaintive, ukulele-led lullaby. The chaos, when it rears its head as it does briefly during a noisy bridge on “Born Tight,” is reined in, subdued.

Ane Brun, Songs 2003 – 2013: Retrospective of perpetually-underrated Norwegian songwriter; her style is forthright and fluttering, some delicate acoustic guitars and yearning vocals make for good early-morning, coffee-drinking music.

Katatonia, Dethroned & Uncrowned: An acoustic interpretation of the band’s 2012 release Dead End Kings, which makes this band’s direction even more baffling to me than it was before. Jon Wiederhorn, who is more qualified to discuss these things than I am, says:

Dethroned isn’t merely an unplugged version of its predecessor. For each song, Katatonia have retained only the guide vocal and completely rewritten everything else, creating a melancholy, beautiful album that proves how poignant the band remains even without the heaviness that helped define the album. It probably won’t appeal to listeners who require heavy with their metal, but for those who value strong progressive songwriting and emotional expression over sheer volume may end up preferring these versions to the originals.

Balance and Composure, The Things We Think We’re Missing: B&C bite emo, but late-game emo, long after Knapsack had packed up and night fell on Sunny Day Real Estate. Fear & Loathing in the Food Court. People seem to like this. Andrew Parks says:

The Things We Think We’re Missing delivers its heart-on-sleeve hooks in the spirit of Sunny Day Real Estate and their pre-Fugazi forebears Rites of Spring, only not quite as raw or rough around the edges — the poison-tipped melodies of “Parachutes” and the door-clawing climax of “Notice Me” are offset by contemplative choruses and riffs that shimmer and shudder. So while the minor-keyed malaise of frontman Jon Simmons may sound a little too familiar on paper — lots of lines about crying, falling and letting go — it’s actually quite endearing on record, capable of waking the confused teenager in all of us.

A master class on pop writing as narrative

The lessons of adolescence come hard in The Silver Gymnasium, Okkervil River’s seventh and most expansive record to date. A dog-eared novelization of Will Sheff’s teenage years in Meridian, New Hampshire (the lyrics are even written out in paragraphs instead of verses), Gymnasium is full of the classic literary symbols of lost innocence: falling autumn leaves, broken bones, crashed cars too big for their drivers. Sheff tumbles through the stories not so much like Holden Caulfield as Gene from A Separate Peace, a brainy, vulnerable kid trying to make sense of a world that seems increasingly alien and violent. In “It Was My Season,” which opens the album, as all good prologues should, with a rolling silent-movie style piano, he engages in a torturous late-night back-and-forth with a friend — and, possibly, lover — he’ll soon leave behind, fighting it out beneath the glow of an Atari before telescoping out at the last second to become grown-up Sheff saying, “I look back on it now and remember how mixed up I got/ before they got me sorted out.” It’s the first of the album’s many whip-pans, swooping away from young Will to his adult counterpart imbuing painful recollections with an older man’s understanding. On “White,” which echoes the slow-burn tension of fellow stately rockers The National and is tellingly placed near the story’s conclusion, Sheff calmly repeats “Summer’s here and I’m gonna crack, crack, crack,” the controlled timbre of his voice amplifying the anxiety of his words.

In a way, the album’s subject matter mirrors the group’s own musical evolution. They began as gangly, fumbling youth, prizing emotional immediacy over lyrical precision, but Sheff has steadily transformed the group into a well read, nattily-attired adjunct professor with a fondness for sidecars and a deep, fanatic knowledge of Richard Brautigan. The progression has alienated some who preferred the violent beauty of his early records, but it better serves Sheff’s increasingly prosaic approach to storytelling. A line like “I stopped by the Lake of the Strangled Crane/ it was the color of copper/ I saw the crane operator/ I heard the operator’s father say, ‘It looks like rain,’” speaks not to anxious bursts of teenage inspiration but to the value of careful word choice and good editing; if anything, The Silver Gymnasium is a master class on pop writing as narrative. (Another gem from the same song: “It’s a stairway or a slow ride/ It’s ‘Rhiannon’ or ‘Landslide’/ I heard the bartender died of a broken heart/ and a shattered pelvis/ and was buried in Kansas.”) Despite consistent misconception, the group was never an alt-country band, and they’re even less of one now: The Silver Gymnasium expands the group’s rollicking, ramshackle rock ‘n’ roll with wheezing synthesizers and wind chimes and horn charts, capturing the same anything-goes spirit as Basement Tapes-era Dylan but with the sleek sheen of recent vintage Springsteen. They’re more experimental, too: “Lido Pier Suicide Car,” both in title and in sound, recalls Scott Walker’s Scott 4, Sheff exhaling his phrases slowly, letting his elegant baritone simmer and caramelize and char like sugar on a stove.

The story doesn’t conclude so much as it vaporizes. In “Black Nemo,” over a rustic acoustic guitar, Sheff gathers up a final collection of childhood memories and releases them into the air like fistfuls of balloons, watching them grow smaller and smaller with the increasing distance, concluding of his triumphs and trauma, “These things have just got to be. I don’t know why.” Tidy narratives abhor loose ends, but Gymnasium‘s decision to end on a question mark suits its tangled, tumbling structure. If “Kids grow up” is the album’s thesis, its conclusion is, “Whether they want to or not.”

Bob Dylan, Another Self Portrait: I think we can all agree that “Wigwam” is one of Bob Dylan’s best songs, right? The album from which it comes is, shall we say, “contentious.” (We had a Weekend Discussion about it this past Friday in case you missed it.) Now today comes the latest installment in Dylan’s Bootleg series, which consists of outtakes from that very record, Self-Portrait, along with outtakes from it’s companion piece, New Morning. Winston Cook-Wilson likes both of ‘em, as well as this new compilation, about which he says:

The original Self Portrait eschews embracing anything anyone could perceive as a persona (country singer, folk/protest singer, countercultural rock star) by trying out as many personas as possible. It’s Dylan’s ultimate presentation of himself at a time when he was still miffed by what everyone thought of him, and it remains deconstructive and baffling. The outtakes included on this new release, however, make a convincing argument against the accusations of the album’s fundamental disingenuousness. Even the messiest or most baffling performances sound sincere and inspired here.

The Dodos & Magik*Magik Orchestra “The Ocean” from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

The Dodos, Carrier: The Dodos’ latest is heavy but graceful. Ryan Reed says:

Carrier, the duo’s fifth LP, is more obvious in its grandeur. Meric Long layers his guitars in lush harmonies and counter-lines, moving through precise time-signature shifts with Kroeber’s intricate percussion and the subtle moans of the Magik Magik Orchestra. But instead of sounding celebratory, the album’s sprawl is tinted by a melancholy glow: Carrier was recorded following the 2012 death of touring guitarist Chris Reimer, and that mournful spirit looms large.

Sly and the Family Stone, Higher!: Obviously, Sly & the Family Stone are one of the greatest rock bands of all time — period. Their initial six-album run (Because I am definitely including Fresh in there) are as vibrant and revolutionary today as they were when they were first released. And so now there’s a new compilation, with outtakes and alternate mixes and a whole bunch of other things, which Britt Robson explains in his review, which we’re excerpting here, as we usually do:

Now comes Higher!, a 77-song compilation that includes mono masters of all Sly’s major hit singles, 17 previously unissued tracks that range from incendiary live performances to earnest formative studio sessions, a host of deep-in-the-album gems, and more obscure releases on either side of the band’s prime. Aside from the first half-dozen or so songs — amateur, now-anachronistic attempts by then-producer/DJ Sly to capitalize on the regional hit, “C’mon Let’s Swim” that he helmed for Bobby Freeman — nearly all the obscurities are much better than typical completist-baiting compilation-filler.

Goodie Mob, Age Against the Machine: Hands-down the best album title of all of today’s new releases, this is also the first Goodie Mob album with all four members in 14 years. Controversially: I haven’t loved Cee-Lo‘s steady edging toward pop music, but on the other hand, if anyone deserves late-career success, it’s Cee-Lo. I haven’t gotten to listen to this one yet, but I’m looking forward to doing so soon. In the meantime, Nate Patrin says:

Age Against the Machine reintroduces their Dirty Southern sociopolitical edge over a string of beats that are just glossy enough to dupe the unwary into thinking it’s a crossover record. The production slate includes contributions by neo-funk oddball Jack Splash and executive production by Cee-Lo himself. But the only real underlying factor tying it all together is a sense of scale: blasts of fog-machine arena rock, spaceship-takeoff club-rap futurism, and manic chase-scene orchestration run through a record that conflates commercial potential with over-the-top bombast.

Big Maybelle, The Best of Blues, Candy & Big Maybelle: I think this may have actually been released a while ago — maybe as far back as 2006, but it showed up here today and I’m calling it out because it is Big Maybelle and because she is the greatest. A big, tough voice that barrels along clanging piano and big, bloozy saxophone. 17 tracks, all of them great. RECOMMENDED

Matt Cameron, Janet Weiss and Zach Hill, Drumgasm: Points to the title for being both tacky and kind of accurate. Matt Cameron of Pearl Jam, Janet Weiss of Sleater-Kinney and Wild Flag and Zach Hill from about a million other things (lately, Death Grips, when they feel like showing up) deliver a single 39-minute track that is, as you might guess, full of drumming. Pretty much entirely drumming. A weird world where free jazz and indie overlap? Your rate of satisfaction with this will depend on how much you like to listen to 39 minutes of drumming.

14KT, Nickled & Dimed: New from our pals at Mello Music is the latest from Michigan producer 14KT. The album hews toward the classic sound of hip-hop, which is fine by us, but spikes it with spaced-out synths and cannily inverted samples, and is rounded out by guest appearances from folks like Black Milk, MED, Blu and more. The result is a kind of psych-hop — the hip-hop equivalent of, say, Psychedelic Shack-era Temps. It’s adventurous and consistent and RECOMMENDED

Bad Sports, Bras: It will come as no surprise to anyone who regularly reads these roundups that I love this band. As you might guess, they’re trashy and punky and lovably greasy — nasty, beery licks, sneering vocals and breathless choruses make for a winning combo.

Big Sean, Hall of Fame: Big Sean is a Michigan rapper who rose to prominence after signing a deal with Kanye West‘s G.O.O.D. Music imprint, as people are wont to do. Musically, he splits the difference between old-style soul bangers (“Fire) and doomy, synth driven ice-cold new-style songs (“10210″). He’s divisive to be sure — commercially successful but has met with varying critical opinions, so maybe do your own math on this one.

Franz Ferdinand, Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action: The first time they’ve tried to make a “Franz Ferdinand album.” Michaelangelo Matos says:

Thirty-five minutes short and largely shorn of the frills that marked 2009′s Tonight, Right Thoughts may be the band’s most curious album: The first time they’ve sounded like they were trying to make a “Franz Ferdinand album.” They’re still good at it, even when they slow down, as on “The Universe Expanded.” “Goodbye Lovers & Friends” closes it out with singer Alex Kapranos avowing, “I don’t play pop music/ You know I hate pop music…This really is the end.” If it is indeed the band’s last gasp, it’s a sharp one.

Flaamingos, Flaamingos: Continuing the strain of moody, dark goth-pop for which Felte is quickly becoming known, Flaamingos lace spiderwebs of guitar through eerie, ghostlike synthesizers. It’s as spooky as a phantom’s howl at 3am, full of sorrow and longing.

Black Joe Lewis, Electric Slave: Existing in some unlikely middle ground between the Black Keys and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is Black Joe Lewis. This is roaring, blues-based rock & roll that’s kept admirably sloppy and scuzzy. Even the horn players sound wasted, which is a plus in my book. The grime in the gears is almost tangible, and Lewis’s unhinged howl is the perfect complement to the music’s ragged, bracing charm.

Helado Negro, Island Universe Story Two: The second in an ongoing series of EPs from Roberto Lange, this installment is tripped-out and delirious, ranging from woozy mood pieces to the frenetic sonic panic attack of “Enters.” There are as many moods and sounds here as there are colors on the album cover, and though it’s only a half-hour long, it feels like a full, considered journey.

Lumerians, The High Frontier: The latest from great space-age weirdos Lumerians, this is more sci-fi psych (psych-fi?) crammed with woozy organs and lockstep motorik drumming and phased-out keys, so the whole thing feels like the soundtrack to a lost grindhouse outer space movie.

Various Artists, CT5: Five Years of caputred Tracks: Man oh man do we love Captured Tracks. We did a label profile on them waaayyy back in 2010, when they were first starting to gain some momentum. They turn five this year, and are celebrating with parties in their home town of Brooklyn, NY, and this outstanding sampler. If you have yet to discover one of indie rock’s best and most satisfying labels a) Why? and b) Why wait any longer? RECOMMENDED

Boom Said Thunder, Exist: The cover for this one is striking — a punk-and-black tiger’s head with the title in its mouth — and the music is just as aggressive. Nasty, gnawing guitars and belted vocals that recall a more-feral Karen O. A refreshing discovery that’s RECOMMENDED

Ghost Wave, Ages: THIS ALBUM IS OUT ON FLYING NUN. REPEAT: THIS ALBUM IS OUT ON FLYING NUN. Holy shit! This is, like, the first bona fide brand-new Flying Nun release in like 15 years! Get psyched, people! Matt LeMay is! This is what he has to say:

Listening to Ages, you can imagine Matthew L. Paul driving an open-air Jeep to the beach with his bandmates playing along in the back seat. His unflinchingly cool vocals are set off by the bouncy bass lines, exuberant keyboards and simple, distorted guitar riffs that distinguished Flying Nun flagship artists like The Clean and The Bats. Add in some shimmering keyboards and strategic reverb-soaked tambourine hits, and you’ve got a perfect warm-weather record, capturing the laid-back excitement of a summer day trip without slouching into slackerdom.

Dent May, Warm Blanket: Dent May ditches his ukulele but continues with his guileless summer-pop tunes. Ian Cohen says:

May gives you exactly what you expect from the album title, and Warm Blanket goes even further into the guileless summer-pop that’s become his trade. He self-recorded the majority of Warm Blanket on the gulf coast of Florida and this is all snuggly comfort sounds — acoustic guitars, stacked harmonies, analog synths, chintzy drum machines.

Julia Holter, Loud City Song: One of the most ambitious and innovative pop releases of the year. Surprise — it’s HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Winston Cook-Wilson says:

Julia Holter’s sound constantly shifts reference points, so it would be hard to claim that it is “distinctive”; this implies a certain level of predictability. However, it is, at any given moment, nearly impossible to liken to anyone else’s. The singer/composer’s work combines an erudite singer-songwriter sensibility with elements of 20th-century classical/electroacoustic music and millennial “bedroom pop,” and her latest, Loud City Song, demonstrates a significant change in the scope of her arrangements, featuring the densest tracks she has released to date.

No Age, An Object: The punk duo gets gloomy on their fourth LP. Andrew Parks says:

Listening to the latest No Age album usually makes my recessive punk genes want to grab the world by its left one, so it’s disconcerting — worrying, even — to hear the duo teetering on the verge of tears halfway through their fourth LP, An Object. As Randy Randall drags his distortion boxes over Dean Allen Spunt’s knuckle-dragging beats, we’re treated to a lonesome tale of day-long drives, truck stops that pour watery coffee pots, and a seemingly endless stream of “bullshit on the stereo.”

Zola Jesus and JG Thirlwell featuring Mivos Quartet, Versions: These orchestral reworkings of Zola Jesus’s songs by Jim Thirwell of proto-industrial act Foetus were debuted at the Guggenheim last year, and it was one of the most stunning live shows I’ve been to in ages. The recorded versions are just as good, and are HIGHLY RECOMMENDED Andy Battaglia says:

With arrangements written by JG Thirlwell, a veteran polymath with roots in the industrial band Foetus who has recently done pan-stylistic work for TV’s Adult Swim, Jesus bellows and swoons through material (five songs from Conatus, three from 2010′s Stridulum II, and one new song, “Fall Back”) made especially dramatic and grand by this backing. For the most part, Versions tacks toward the stately and the restrained.

Laura Veirs, Warp and Weft: Veirs gets some help from Neko Case, My Morning Jacket and others on her excellent ninth LP. RECOMMENDED Hilary Saunders says:

Veirs recorded Warp and Weft while she was eight months pregnant with her second child, and her husband and longtime collaborator Tucker Martine later produced the 12-track release. As such, themes of love and loss, protection and ultimate surrender weave their way throughout Warp and Weft, with Veirs’s own motherhood experiences serving as the connecting thread on her ninth LP.

Ski Lodge, Big Heart: THIS ALBUM IS SUPER GOOD. If you are a fan of The Smiths or the Housemartins or the Harvest Ministers, this is the record for you. Big, bounding, jangling guitars, dour, sad-romantic vocals and hooks for days. Days! RECOMMENDED

Julianna Barwick, Nepenthe: The one ambient album indie-rock fans should make room for this year, from an eMusic Selects alum. Ian Cohen says:

The format of Barwick’s music hasn’t changed; she’s still transmogrifying herself into waves of pure gauze five or so minutes at a time. But here, she avails herself of Iceland’s amenities — string ensemble Amiina, members of múm, a teenaged choir and reverb that makes Nepenthe sound vast enough to fill any space it’s put into. It’s not pop music, but it’s not difficult; you couldn’t call it “easy listening either.” In its own way, the category-dodging Nepenthe follows the rules of a typical rock follow-up: It’s a deeper, darker and more accomplished version of its predecessor.

A$AP Ferg, Trap Lord: A$AP Ferg’s first commercial release goes more for comprehensiveness than cohesion. Ian Cohen says:

Although Ferg is a fringe figure at heart, Trap Lord presents him as a middleman, or at least a central hub, where the darker strains of ’90s pop-rap mingle with their current analogues. It’s a weird one for sure, pitch-black in both sound and spirit at times. But even in its rushed, slapdash state, it’s a labor of love. The dank production and misanthropic lyricism can’t hide its creator nerding out over the past two decades of amoral hip-hop.

Army Navy, Crushed EP: Only Army Navy can make total emotional devastation sound like romantic bliss. On this EP – a teaser for their forthcoming full-length – the group apply their winning combo of honeyed hooks and clear-eyed melodies to the topics of desperation and disappointment, making gorgeous songs from snapping heartstrings. RECOMMENDED

His Electro Blue Voice, Ruthless Sperm: Italian combo HEBV have been around for a minute now, slowly perfecting their ruthless, grinding trash-rock. They’ve cleaned up nicely for their Sub Pop debut — the hooks are bigger, the riffs toothier and the vocals more panicked and urgent. This is one big chaotic barrel of sound.

The Horse’s Ha, Waterdrawn: Lovely-sounding folk music from Janet from Freakwater and James Elkington; this one channels early English folk in places — mystic, sparkling acoustic guitars — and early Americana in others. The whole thing is spit-shined and super cheery.

BRAIDS, Flourish // Perish: The Montreal band goes digital on their second effort. Annie Zaleski says:

At its core, Flourish // Perish is built around icy keyboard drones, clipped digital splotches, cut-and-paste vocal manipulation and Raphaelle Standell-Preston’s acrobatic enunciation. Guitars are practically nonexistent; only the album-closing “In Kind” features the instrument, and even then, these corrugated sweeps blend into the electronic textures and Standell-Preston’s Elizabeth Fraser-like trilling.

Larry Gus, Years Not Living: Whoah! This is really weird and pretty awesome! Grecian jack-of-all-trades Panagiotis Melidis delivers a head-spinning collection of art-pop not too far off from the late-night lounge lizard vibe of the last Matthew Dear record. This one is more outre tho — where Dear conjured a creepier Roxy Music, this one is artier and more obtuse. RECOMMENDED

Destruction Unit, Deep Trip: New one from these mean-eyed marauders — and one of the best live rock bands going — whallops full force, lots of squealing feedback and motorcross riffs and everything so drowning in distortion it almost sounds like a solid wall of static at times. This is the angriest record you’ll hear this year, and it’s RECOMMENDED.

White Hills, So You Are, So You’ll Be: Pretty awesome sturm und drang from New York stoner/acid/psych metal band. Sneering vocals and gallons of greasy guitars, offset by weird, glitchy broke-computer interludes.

Porcelain Raft, Permanent Signal: Mauro Remiddi’s sophomore LP thrives on intimacy. Puja Patel says:

The album features contributions from the Antlers and Yuck, but Remiddi mostly thrives on intimacy, balancing crackling, lovelorn moans with glassy-eyed reverb and barely-there melodies on “Echo” that push to the surface but never quite break through. The result is an enveloping, quicksand-like quality that makes Permanent Signal easy to get sucked in by even when there are no hooks to grab on to.

JJ DOOM, Keys to the Kuffs (Butter Edition): For a new MF Doom record, the original iteration of Keys to the Kuffs kind of snuck out without much fanfare. Here’s your chance to catch up on what you missed. The expanded edition appends 9 remixes and B-Sides to the original’s cockeyed, Kool Keith-conjuring hip-hop.

Shigeto, No Better Time Than Now: Drifty tracks that are no more techno than they are jazz. Michaelangelo Matos says:

No Better Time Than Now has a much heavier early-’70s astral-jazz feel than producer Zack Shigeto Saginaw’s prior work — if the title of the opener, “First Saturn Return,” isn’t enough of a clue to Shigeto’s orientation, the crinkly percussion and slow-rippling Fender Rhodes line and chimes ought to do it.

DIANA, Perpetual Surrender: The Toronto band’s debut is a mix of chillwave blur and ’70s art-rock chops. Barry Walters says:

Like all recent acts still working the chillwave formula, DIANA brings the blur. The quartet’s vocalist, Carmen Elle, sings softly, often smothered by wooly keyboard blankets; the sustain settings are often high, and there’s little here that’s fast or jarring. But significant variations on the familiar formula flow throughout this Toronto band’s debut album.

Diarrhea Planet, We’re Rich Beyond Your Wildest Dreams: It’s hard to get an exact read on one of the year’s best live bands, but they’re still captivating on their debut. Evan Minsker says:

Diarrhea Planet have been lauded as one of the best live bands going, and We’re Rich Beyond Your Wildest Dreams offers a stack of evidence for why that might be. They can deliver a melody that’s as catchy as any Cars hit and land an electric guitar solo that’s indebted to the hair metal gods. But for an album with cock-rock guitars and a Raymond Pettibon-reminiscent album cover, I’m Rich also has a sizable pile of quieter, simmering moments.

Crocodiles, Crimes of Passion: Big, blissful, noisy pop songs that flash back a bit to the noisier end of Britpop. Jesus & Mary Chain are the obvious reference point, but the melodies here are mostly sweeter and sunnier and more unabashedly pop.

Watain, The Wild Hunt: Watain take black metal into new places on their HIGHLY RECOMMENDED fifth record. Jon Wiederhorn says:

Watain haven’t yet figured out a way to express their malodorous aesthetic on record, but they keep finding new methods of shocking listeners. The Wild Hunt is just as dark and sinister, or as the band puts it in “De Profundis,” it’s “the defiant chords of dissonance, to rape the symphony of God.” Yet the album is far more eclectic than 2010′s Lawless Darkness, blending together a multitude of musical elements ranging from the blastbeat fury of “Outlaw” to the dark acoustic folk dirge “They Rode On,” which includes clean vocals by Erik Danielsen that resemble Nick Cave or Death in June.

Ptahil, For His Satanic Majesty’s Glory: For some slightly less-refined Stanism, there’s the latest from this Indiana death metal band, with incredible cover art, panic-attack guitars and shredded-voicebox singing.

Lycia, Quiet Moments: I can’t even front, I was way into this dude back when he was on Projekt. This is more chilling dark ambient perfect for those lonesome, sinister summer nights — weird layers of synth and an overall melancholy vibe.

The Kissaway Trail, Breach The Danish band’s sophomore effort is more focused, even without a couple founding members. Annie Zaleski says:

The album’s hazy indie rock draws from diverse influences, including Britpop (the shimmering “Nørrebro”), psych-pop (the Flaming Lips dead ringer “Cuts Of Youth (Razor Love)”) and ’80s alt-pop (“Sarah Jevo”). Stylistically, the Kissaway Trail aren’t reinventing the wheel, but their songwriting is taut and dynamic; as a result, Breach sounds effortless and irresistible.

Mark Kozelek & Desertshore, Mark Kozelek & Desertshore: It is a real bummer that Mark Kozelek has fallen so far below the radar, because after he got that bad Modest Mouse covers record out of his system years ago, his work has actually been really consistent. He’s establishing the same kind of career arc as Bonnie “Prince” Billy, putting out a rewarding record every few years for them that have ears to here. This one is a collaboration with Desertshore, the band helmed by Phil Carney, who also used to be in Red House Painters. Wheels within wheels! RECOMMENDED

Mountains, Mountains Mountains Mountains: New one from delightful droners features all measure of moody, meditative compositions that grow and swell and gain weight and scope and depth as they go on.

Still Life Still, Mourning Trance: The Toronto group comes out from Broken Social Scene’s shadow on their second album. Ryan Reed says:

Still Life Still’s sophomore LP, Mourning Trance, resonates on a deeper level — mostly because it doesn’t try as hard to impress. Alex Bonefant offers lush, synth-heavy production, and Saarinen has turned toward a more nuanced, imagistic lyrical style (“What does the world want?” he wonders on the slow-jam “Thinking About Our Plans,” elongating each syllable in a pained croon).

John Mayer, Paradise Valley: This guy. Ryan Reed says:

Paradise Valley finds Mayer at his most laid-back, embellishing the open-prairie folk of his previous album, Born and Raised, with breezy vocal harmonies and jazzy electric guitar nectar. Whether he’s in wistful-daydreamer mode (the shuffling country-folk of “Dear Marie”) or channeling his inner Slowhand (the impeccable, guitar-drenched kiss-off “Paper Doll”), Mayer’s hooks and grooves have an effortless glide to them — so much so that it’s easy to ignore that Paradise Valley is the most random, eclectic he’s ever made.

A.M.S.G., Anti-Cosmic Tyranny: No-fi people-hating black(ish) metal is weird as hell — it kind of reminds me of a less-well-adjust Xasthur, so do with that what you will. Profound Lore’s official site claims the album was, “formulated and constructed behind prison walls by mastermind and notorious black metal crime lord Angelfukk Witchhammer,” so take that at face value or don’t. What you can be assured of is that you won’t hear another metal record like this this year. Midway through the first track, a saxophone delivers a Coltrane-style solo behind some of the filthiest, most unrefined metal riffing this side of Mantas. I mean, I don’t even know where to start with this. RECOMMENDED for sheer weirdness’s sake.

File under: The soundtracks to the kind of nightmares induced by particularly harrowing horror movies

For fans of: Smashing Pumpkins, Black Sabbath, Royal Thunder, Mazzy Star, Pentagram

From: Brooklyn

Personae: Nya Abudu (bass), Cici Harrison (drums), Amber Myers (tambourine, vocals) and Jessica Numsuwankijkul (vocals, guitar)

It’s clear from the get-go on A Constant Sea, the debut from Brooklyn psych-sludgers Heliotropes that something ain’t right. On the album cover, a grim, skeletal visage peers out from the shadows. Thirty seconds into the first song, frontwoman Jessica Numsuwankijkul warns “red comes rushing through your skies” over the same gristle-greased guitars that occupied the better part of Smashing Pumpkins’ Gish. The record remains just as grim throughout, a turbulent meditation on loss and pain and spiritual darkness that borrows equally from early ’90s alt and late ’70s stoner metal. The grim music amplifies the record’s harrowing themes. “Don’t wanna be black or white/ don’t wanna be light or dark/ I don’t believe in good and evil anyway,” Numsuwankijkul sings on the ominously throbbing, Electric Wizard-conjuring “Good and Evil.” A Constant Sea is a bleak missive from the edge of midnight.

On the corruptive influence of her black sheep uncle:

I had this crazy uncle who was a drug addict — I didn’t realize it at the time, because I was a little kid. But sometimes he’d come over and say, “I’m gonna take you to the mall.” And I’d say, “Can you take me to the toy store?” but he’d take me to Tower Records instead, and I’d be like, “This isn’t the toy store.” I remember I wanted to buy a children’s record, and he was like, “You don’t want that,” and bought me Appetite for Destruction instead. I was eight years old.

And then I also have an older sister, and I caught a lot of bands I shouldn’t have pretty early, because she always had MTV on. The first video I remember seeing was “Lovesong” by the Cure. Disintegration was one of the first albums that I bought, but then Siamese Dream was the first record I really latched on to. I bought pretty much the entire Pumpkins catalog.

On the violent beauty of the Smashing Pumpkins:

My favorite stuff is actually on Pisces Iscariot, because it’s B-Sides from between Gish and Siamese Dream, and I feel like that’s the sweet spot for that band — totally phased out, fuzzy guitar tones. I always really liked how Billy Corgan could write songs in the early days that were loud and powerful but also in a major key without sounding wussy. That’s something I haven’t quite figured out how to do. I love a lot of early metal, too, and I feel like that comes out a lot. It’s also more fun to play really heavy music — I feel like we lean toward that.

On the sly virtue of early emo:

I bought [The Promise Ring's] 30 Degrees Everywhere on my first trip to New York when I was 14 years old. It was in the late ’90s. The boy that I was with had just gotten his license, and so we drove down to St. Marks. We went to Kim’s, and I was so excited. I was like, “Wow, I’m at a record store in New York!” And I was trying so hard to impress this boy. So I bought a Velvet Underground record and I bought that Promise Ring record, because I remembered him saying something about the Promise Ring on the phone. When I bought it, I was like, “Oh, yeah I totally know this band,” even though I totally didn’t. And I hated it at first! But at the time I was listening to Pavement — which is by no means slick, but it’s still 500 times slicker than the Promise Ring. I turned into a shitty hardcore scenester after that in High School, but I always secretly listened to the Promise Ring.

On struggling within the confines of stereotypes and critical laziness:

Music reviewers are too preoccupied with trying to find an all-girl band that we sound like at all times. “They clearly take cues from — ” and then they mention a band I’d never heard of before, so I look it up and, yup, it’s an all-girl band. They’re trying so hard to fit our band within their limited worldview.

A lot of writers seem to have shitty expectations about what we must sound like. You know, “What does it feel like being in an all-girl band?” I hear that so much. Or the implication that there’s a “girl-band sound.” I mean, I could make a piece of music that sounds like Sarah MacLachlan — which, by the way, I wouldn’t — and contrast that with, like, the chick from Boris, and you’re saying that they sound the same. I feel like that’s the implication. Or you’ll see someone write, “They’re not your typical girl band.” What is a “typical girl band”?

I stopped reading reviews recently because you can get a really negative review and get really upset about it. I mean, I don’t care if people pan my music, but I haven’t read a single negative review that doesn’t extend past the music to talk about who we are. Like, sexist, racist shit. There’s this one guy who actually wrote two negative reviews, that’s how much he hates us. This guy immediately starts off his review with [something like], “As a red-blooded American male, I find it really sexy when a woman can hold her own in the boys club of rock.” He then goes on to list all of our ethnicities, and then says that our image is the best thing about us, and that we actually suck. He says he thinks that Amber should front the band. He wrote, “I don’t really know what her voice sounds like, but she should be fronting the band.” By the way, Amber is the only Caucasian in the band. The thing that really bothered me was that he kept writing as if having a multi-ethnic band was some planned thing, or a gimmick. The implication being that if we were coming from a genuine place, we would be four white guys.

On her one-time day gig as an editor at DC Comics:

I got into comics when I was like 13 or 14 because Tori Amos was always talking about Sandman. I think working there is maybe the best 9-to-5 job you can have — it’s like being at Adult Day Care. But it kind of destroyed my interest in comics a little bit because, as with anything, there’s stupid corporate politics. It’s also super sexist — much worse than music. I mean, think about it: You’ve got all these guys working there — it’s like 75 percent male in that office — but not only is it a severe Boys’ Club, it’s a severe nerdy Boys’ Club. People would say things to me all the time, like, “It really sucks that sexual harassment occurs but, you know, that’s just how it is.” And then it’s worse in that environment, because you have all these guys who are so far removed from having female friends, so they’re not used to having women who are just, you know, doing the everyday thing. I mean, a lot of the women who get hired are the ones who are really playing up that sexualized aspect. It has nothing to do with their work. They’re like, “I’m a burlesque star!” Either that or they’re trying to be “one of the boys,” and there’s just no room for in between. You have to be seen either as a man or as this hyper-sexualized person for anyone to give you a chance in comics. I talk about this all the time with my friend Becky, who has the distinction of being the first woman to draw Batman — and it’s 2013 — we talk about this all the time, because she’s trying to find a way to straddle that line.

On the dark circumstances that informed A Constant Sea:

It was a really chaotic time. That’s probably why the album sounds a little darker — it was largely a reflection of the summer of last year. Around that time, I was dealing with my father’s long-term illness, I was dealing with being between jobs, and I was dealing with a really traumatic experience with my ex-boyfriend who was stalking me. I had a restraining order against him, and at one point I had to defend myself against him, and I actually almost got in trouble for defending myself against him. It was just an awful time.

On the afterlife:

Some people call [the afterlife] a liberating though. I think it’s mostly terrifying. I remember when my dad died — I remember how afraid he was. He was really scared. And I was like — they were giving him Ativan as he was about to pass away. Which I guess is a standard practice — they give people anti-anxiety medication as they’re slipping away so they don’t panic. I think mostly people are afraid that there isn’t going to be anything. And around that time I was listening to that 17th-century hymn “Idumæa.” Current 93 created a whole album where they just had different people singing different versions of that song [Black Ships Ate the Sky] — Marc Almond sings one and Will Oldham sings one and then Shirley Collins sings a version. And by that point in her life she had completely lost her voice. She was in her 50s, and to hear it — it’s the most graphically unsettling thing.

…and the myth of good and evil:

I was reading a lot of St. Francis of Assisi at the time, and in a lot of his writing he’s talking about [God being] this wholly good thing. And to think that something is wholly good is something that I haven’t been able to do as an adult. And I really would like to. I mean, the George Harrison song, “My Sweet Lord,” it’s about God, but to listen to him sing it, it sounds like he’s singing to someone he’s really in love with. And it’s so gorgeous. [Sings] “I really wanna know you. I really wanna be with you.” And I really wish I had that same capacity for devotional love. I don’t think I do, and I really envy that in other people.

I mean, you look down on people who have these perfect fundamentalist ideas, because you think they’re stupid. But in a way, you envy that, too. Because think how much nicer things would be if you really put all of your heart into this one thing and really feel like it’s the right thing and that it’s all good. That would be so nice, and I feel like I’ll never have that. And things aren’t defined in your heart and mind as wholly good or bad, what do you put your energy into? How do you live your life? If you’re the kind of person who reacts to trauma by trying to latch on to something — like, after a car accident, what’s your reaction? Do you become born again, or do you believe that life is chaos? Bad things happen to good people and events are arbitrary — it depends on what kind of person you are.

Amanda Shires, Down Fell the Doves: The Texas singer/songwriter lets her eccentricities run wild on her latest LP. Stephen Deusner says:

When Amanda Shires sings about the devil on “Deep Dark Below,” a standout on her latest album, he “plays a mean fiddle and his bow’s made of bone.” The Texas native plays a mean bow herself: She joined the Texas Playboys at 15 and has backed an array of musicians, including Justin Townes Earle, Todd Snider and her husband Jason Isbell. Members of his band the 400 Unit back her on Down Fell the Doves, creating a strange and spry country sound that fits her fantastical lyrics about emotional risk and unfathomable doubt. Musically and lyrically, Shires lets her eccentricities run wild.

The Polyphonic Spree, Yes, It’s True.: The massive Polyphonic Spree’s first album in quite a while. Barry Walters says:

This time, rainbow-hued tunes dictate the arrangements’ scope, rather than the other way around. The chugging opening title cut strikes a feisty defense against detractors with a sticky self-empowerment slogan — “There’s always more to you than there are of them” — and ringing guitar riffs that skew more U2 than Up With People. What follows certainly has its share of monolithic moments, but now they’re effectively scaled to some of Tim DeLaughter’s most substantial and finessed compositions. He’s still rewriting one of the many pages from the Flaming Lips’ songbook, but when the results are as delicate and thoughtful as “You’re Golden,” his imitation mutually flatters.

Eric Copeland, Joke in the Hole: Black Dice’s Eric Copeland releases his sixth solo album. Andy Battaglia says:

Joke in the Hole shows Copeland as an exploratory electronic artist increasingly in control of his gear. Parts of the album are danceable in a would-be techno fashion (“Kashi Donation”; “Babes in the Woods,” after an extremely weird opening minute or so), and it hides lots of surprises as tracks zig and zag between passages that sound barely related to each other but are conjoined in ways that make sense. There’s a fascinating suggestion of logic to these pieces, even if that logic won’t do anything so logical as to give itself up.

Pond, Hobo Rocket: Tame Impala offshoot tries to capture the band’s live show. Andrew Perry says:

Pond, like Tame Impala, swipe influences from across rock ‘n’ roll’s more cosmically-aligned history, scrub them up with fresh shine and color, and present them as new. Opener “Whatever Happened to the Million Head Collide” — a Flaming Lips title, if ever there was one — opens like a lysergic take on Bo Diddley, with ethereal, reedy vocals reminiscent of MGMT’s Andrew VanWyngarden, but soon erupts into the most twisted Black Sabbath groove since Butthole Surfers’ “Sweat Loaf.”

Dumb Numbers, Dumb Numbers: This record has a pretty weird backstory! Dumb Numbers is just one man, Adam Harding, who happens to have a lot of excellent connections. Consequently, bold-faced indie types like Lou Barlow, Dale Crover, Best Coast’s Bobb Bruno and Dinosaur Jr.’s Murph. All show up here. And the artwork is by David Lynch to boot. Soncially, this is doomy and sludgy, sub basement trudge-core for your rainiest days.

Chris Thile, Bach: Sonatas and Partitas, Vol. 1: The mandolin virtuoso takes on Bach. Hilary Saunders says:

The shrill timbre of the mandolin, an unlikely choice for unaccompanied Bach, brings a certain brightness (sonically and metaphorically) to Thile’s interpretations, which honor the disparate dynamics, stretching arpeggios and seamless harmonic transitions of their original texts. His chordal playing is especially apparent in the Tempo Di Borea movement of the first partita and his stunningly speedy precision marks the Presto movements of both the first sonata and partita. However, Thile’s creative liberties conjure the most excitement, as he constantly adapts and improvises fills for his instrument when the original sounds can’t be recreated.

Moderat, II: Modeselektor + Apparat make surprisingly accessible 21st-century pop music. Andrew Harrison says:

Sascha Ring, Gernot Bronsert and Sebastian Szary remain in restless magpie mode for this second album, adding abrasive electronic R&B textures, soulful, post-Frank Ocean human voices and especially the midnight clatter and throb of dubstep to their ever-changing scheme of things. The album’s signature track “Bad Kingdom” transplants the snap and bounce of a daytime radio pop-soul hit into the echoing no-space inhabited by Burial or Shackleton; the epic 10-minuter “Milk” is minimal house with a glittering dubstep sheen; “Let In The Light” is a slow jam so thoroughly zonked on shoegazing energies that it dissolves into bleary bliss. Most striking of all is the scale — everything here is big.

Various Artists, Mutazione: Italian Electronic & New Wave Underground 1980 – 1988: WHOAH HOLY COW. Weirdo electro — think of the stuff that comes out on Wierd Records and Minimal Wave — but with Italian vocals. Fascinating and unpredictable and RECOMMENDED

Explosions in the Sky & David Wingo, Prince Avalanche: An Original Motion Picture Soundtrack: EITS and Ola Podrida frontman David Wingo team up to create the soundtrack for the new movie by mumblecore master David Gordon Green. EITS are usually known for their sweep and pounce, but the songs here are tender and meditative and graceful — not too far off from labelmate Eluvium, in a way.

Medicine, To the Happy Few: I like to think that Medicine were getting jealous of all the attention Codeine was getting and decided to get back in the game. The first new Medicine record in almost 20 years (!) retains all of the quirk as their earlier work. The songs here are similar to early His Name is Alive, full of oddly-assembled sounds, drifting, dreamlike vocals and milky sonics.

Pop 1280, Imps of Perversion: Pop 1280′s last record was a straight masterpiece, a smoking slab of horror-goth that brought to mind the best qualities of The Birthday Party and The Jesus Lizard (we loved it so much that we profiled them when it came out). Their new record is different — it’s not as claustrophobic, there’s a greater emphasis on the keyboards over guitars, and the vocals are dry and shoved to the fore. A new look all around.

Bare Mutants, The Affliction: An all-star cast — Jared from Ponys, Seth Bohn of Mannequin Men and Jeanine O’Toole who did some time in the 1900s — along with Matt Holland and Leslie Deckard, produce an album of gloom-pop for eMusic faves In the Red that is full-on weep-psych at is finest. Fans of Crystal Stilts will especially enjoy.

Summer Cannibals, No Makeup: Great, bratty and power-poppy, like Joan Jett if she recorded for Matador instead of a major. Sneering vocals, gritty guitars and motorcycle melody lines make for a great late-summer ride.

The Human Beast, Venus Ejaculates into the Banquet: How’s that for a title? Super creepy minimalist electrogoth with doomy female vocals floating ghostlike throughout.

Eli Mardock, Everything Happens for the First Time: Lovely, weird-sounding orch-pop not too far off from that Kid Silver record that came out ages ago. Lots of dreamy, slack-key guitars, whispery vocals and weird, dreamlike sounds that appear outta nowhere. RECOMMENDED

Eldest Son, I Was Fire: Speaking of psych! I don’t know what the deal with this band is, but the music is pretty dizzying — crazy layers of guitar, corkscrewing time signatures and heavy-lidded vocals. A perfect complement to the Eli Mardock, and also RECOMMENDED

Hugh Mundell & Lacksley Castell, Jah Fire: Gorgeous 1980 record from two great reggae singers. Topically, this is strictly roots — musically, too, actually: low-rolling bass, chicken-scratch guitars and the gorgeous vocals of Castell and Mundell singing praises to the most high over top of it.

The Blind Hole, Dead in the Dirt: Atlanta grindcore powerhouse returns with a record that is just as brutal but far more inventive than your typical fare. Drums explode, guitars speed up and suddenly slam to a stop, and the vocals whiplash from growl to bloodcurdling scream.

Minks, Tide’s End: Plinky synthpop! Monophonic keyboards twitch and twinkle beneath New Romantic-style sad-man vocals. It’s aching in the way all good retropop is.

RocketNumberNine, MeYouWeYou: RocketNumberNine piece together an approximation of dance music. Philip Sherburne says:

Like Lightning Bolt, they manage it all with just four hands, with Tom Page’s live percussion providing the rhythmic muscle and Ben Page’s synthesizers taking care of all the rest. And “live” is the operative word here: Rather than editing and overdubbing, they roll out their lumpen shapes in real time, lending a rough-around-the-edges quality that’s rare for the kind of corkscrewing, groove-focused electronic music that they emulate.

eMusic’s editor-in-chief J. Edward Keyes caught up with the sisters by phone a few hours before a show in Wisconsin.

Amelita is the second record you guys have made as Court Yard Hounds. I know the first time out, there were a lot of hurdles you had to clear, recording in this new configuration. How did your experience last time inform your work on this record?

Martie Maguire: I think we were conscious of keeping some things the same, but breaking out and trying to evolve as well. The things we kept the same were a lot of our favorite musicians that were on the first record. And as far as the songwriting, we just wrote a ton more, and we wrote together more. We also did some songwriting with other people — we were opening to broadening the songwriting pool. I think it was important for us to keep the Court Yard Hounds sound — to really solidify that on the sophomore album, but also to try some experimental sounds a little bit.

Emily Robison: It let us relax a little more, having one album under our belt. I know I felt more at ease and relaxed. And just getting to work with Jim Scott again — there’s a lot of things that you know work and you go with them.

You worked on the first record in relative secrecy. Did you feel any need to preserve that when you started working on Amelita?

Robison: Oh, not at all. We were tweeting and letting people know all the time. And I think the secrecy the first time around was borne out of the fact that we didn’t really know what it was going to be. We didn’t know if we were going to release it, we didn’t know what it was, so we didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag for many reasons. Having that veil of secrecy allowed us to tinker a little more on the first record. Now, I think, we just feel like a band. We’re not a side project or a vanity project anymore. I mean, we never felt like we were, but people put us in that category.

You can hear that on the record. One of the things I keep coming back to as I listen to the record is the fact that a lot of the songs are centered on the idea of positivity. On the opening track, you take down someone who’s relentlessly negative. The chorus of “The World Smiles” is kind of about focusing on the positive things in life and reaping the rewards of that. I was wondering why you kept returning to those themes?

Maguire: I think in general Emily and I are really happy people. We’ve got children and they’re happy and healthy. There are things that bring us down — I was going through a divorce on this record like Emily was going through a divorce on the last record — but we have different ways of dealing with that, and I think we were just in a really good place when we were writing these songs. It’s easy sometimes to write about traumatic things or sad things — maybe it’s the same when you make a movie: if you’ve got something heart-wrenching going on, it’s easier to pull the watcher in. I think we make a conscious effort to challenge ourselves to write happy, upbeat music, because that’s how we feel. The songs are harder to come by for sure, though.

It’s funny that you used the movie analogy. One of the other things I noticed was that most of the songs on the record are written about specific characters, rather than being first-person.

Robison: I just felt like between the first album and this album I came out up from underneath the water a little bit, and I was able to look at other people’s lives and be an observer of life instead of just looking inward all the time — which is where I was four or five years ago. It was refreshing for me to be able to either live vicariously through other people or notice other people’s lives and still relate them to my own but not be so egocentric about writing. It’s a little bit broader view. It’s not that it was necessarily conscious, it’s just where we were.

The more I started living with the record, the more it started feeling like Spoon River Anthology, or something, where all of these characters were coexisting in this very specific world. I really liked the way you were able to create that sense of place. I wanted to ask about “Sunshine,” specifically — which is kind of a kiss-off to someone who is just cynical and down about everything all the time (“Tonight you’ll grace us with all your inner presence/ While your back-handed compliments let the air out of the room”). Was that based on a specific person?

[Both laugh loudly]

Maguire: We both always say that everybody knows this [kind of] person. For us, it was several different people. There might be a line that made us think of one person or a line that made us think of another. What came first was that Emily just kept hearing, “We call you Sunshine.” That part came first. I don’t think we knew we were going to be tongue-in-cheek about it until the words started coming out in the verses. But it’s not any one person in particular. We each have different people in mind. [Both laugh again.]

You’ve got that great line in there: “The world will pass you over while you’re waiting for a crown.”

Maguire: Wait, how does it go again? [Laughs.] I think I was picturing the singer, Emily, being like, “I’m trying to help you be positive, I want you to see the world in a positive way and I’m worried that you’re gonna miss it if you don’t open your eyes and see all the good there is.” It’s one of those people who are a little entitled — things come easy to them. They’re gonna miss the day-to-day, living in the moment type things while they’re waiting for the big stuff to happen.

I think that line brings an element of hope into the song, too. I wanted to ask about the title track, “Amelita.” A few of the lines seem to me to be about someone who gets led astray by some of the temptations of fame, or someone who got sidetracked on their way to fame.

Robison: [Pauses.] It’s interesting that you read it that way. That song is more about the title character — it was actually inspired by a time we were shooting a video for “Long Time Gone” in this little border town in South Texas. We were in the market square and we come out of our trailers with our makeup on and our hair done and our nice clothes that our stylist picked out for us, and we realized within 10 minutes that we were in the middle of Boys’ Town and we looked over and there was a small, run-down motel and these girls are standing out there on the porch, these teenage prostitutes. That dichotomy was so condemning to us, realizing that we put ourselves right in the middle of a very, very different reality from other people. That stuck with me for a really long time. And then slowly the words started coming to me. I just was painting a picture of this person, and I kept hearkening back to that time. You could have picked any one of those girls and the song is about her.

That’s a really harrowing story. Did you find yourselves in situations like that often?

Robison: I think it’s more that, especially as women, you observe other women who make those kind of choices in an entertainment career that they hope will get them where they’re going faster or get discovered. We’ve never personally come across that or had to deal with, like, the director’s couch, but you do observe it and you do ask yourself, “Why? Why would someone do this? Why would you do that, as a woman?”

Another song with really evocative imagery is “Rock All Night” — you keep coming back to this central metaphor of the Himalaya Ride Is that borne out of a childhood spent going to carnivals?

Robison: Martie and I grew up going to the Texas State Fair every year. And I think it’s called different things in different parts of the world, depending on which carnie group comes through your town, but I always remembered it as the Himalaya Ride. There’s other ones, called the “Rockin’” something-or-other. But having that in our past — I remember always wanting to sit next to the cute boy on the Himalaya Ride because you’d get pushed into him once it got going. Those sort of memories. We had the music for that song for a while, and while we were on tour I took my kids down to Santa Cruz and we went on the boardwalk and that ride was there, and it just brought back all of those memories.

We’re spared all of that on the amazingly-titled Ready for Boredom, skipping instead right to the busted Mustang riffing and the blown-throat vocals. “Sally” is to The Rolling Stones “Happy” what Turkish Star Wars is to regular Star Wars: It has a lot of the same component parts — a blues lick deep-fried in axle grease, a somersaulting two-note hook — but is decidedly lower-budget and flaunts its inattention to detail. Their closest US analog is probably The Men — both bands mine classic rock for its junkiest spare parts — but the Bad Boys are sloppier and soggier still. The glistening album-closer “Keep it From You” is the closest they get to actual sentiment, but Nic Warnock’s heartsick lyrics sound like they’re coming from the business end of a drunk dial. He may not remember what he said in the morning, but he sounds like he means it in the moment. And isn’t that all that matters?

One of the most brutal, unnerving metal records of the year

Play any of the songs on the harrowing third record by Alison Chesley — who records as Helen Money — on electric guitar, and you’d have one of the most brutal, unnerving metal records of the year. But play them as she does on cello, and — well, you still have one of the most brutal, unnerving metal records of the year. Much of this comes from Chesley’s command of dynamic. Aptly-titled album-opener “Upsetter” starts with a low thrum that skitters forward like a tarantula before erupting into slasher-film goring, Chesley’s instrument so distortion-caked it sounds like a rotary saw. She’s joined by Neurosis drummer Jason Roeder on “Beautiful Friends,” which progresses from seasick lurch to undead horse stampede, growing more violent and insistent as it goes on. It’s a snarling, suffocating record, and by the time you get to the avalanche that concludes “Radio Recorders,” it’s clear the angels of the title aren’t coming down from the sky, but up from below, horns gleaming, eyes yellow as old bones.

But lean closer in and the images start to distort. Green opens the provocatively-titled “Every Boy Wants a Normal Girl” by singing, “Sometimes I wish I was a normal girl,” and then follows it with the height of abnormality: “Like the ones on TV, like the ones in the movies.” The drowsy “Darkest Eyes” scans quickly as plainspoken puppy love, with Green celebrating her true love’s eyes and contemplating how to retain his affections. And what’s her solution? “There’s no better way to keep appearances preserved/ than a razor to the optic nerve.” And then you skip back to that first song, the one where she’s singing about loving her boyfriend, and catch what she says near the ending: “When he tells me that he loves me, I lose the air from my lungs/ his love has finally killed me.” Sock it to Me is strychnine-laced Strawberry Fanta.