Pop 'stache

Post-hardcore heavyweight A Lot Like Birds has seen its share of changes during its time in the industry, none of which have been very positive. Following its debut LP Plan B—an experimental masterpiece that set an unbelievably high bar for the genre—A Lot Like Birds drastically plummeted, becoming a generic screamo band fading into the rest of tired scene.

This is largely due to the addition of Kurt Travis, formerly the lead singer of Dance Gavin Dance, which prompted the band to shift its focus away from stellar instrumentals to Travis’ unimpressive voice and lyrics. While this gained A Lot Like Birds heaps of popularity, it killed one of the most original acts in recent years.

While A Lot Like Birds is still one of the best bands in the screamo/post-hardcore scene, as it proves with its most recent effort No Place, it falls so short from its initial release that it can hardly be considered the same band.

All of that said, A Lot Like Birds is still where fans of post-hardcore screamo should direct their attention, as the band is still innovative and interesting musically, and Cory Lockwood still kills it as a screamer even though he’s changed a bit, too.

The group seems to have taken a lot of influence from older bands in the genre, namely The Mars Volta, whom it closely mimics on chaotic tracks like “Connector” and “Next to Ungodliness,” while still maintaining a somewhat original sound.

The highlights of No Place are actually the calmer, more instrumentally-focused tracks that feature Travis’s poetry. They’re a breath of fresh air between the insanity found on the rest of the album.

“Myth of Lasting Sympathy” and “No Nurture” still have the innate epicness A Lot Like Birds carries, but stand out amid the heavier, fast-paced songs. This balance of creating novelty within a signature sound takes some serious skill, but A Lot Like Birds proves it is still capable of writing music that isn’t viciously puked out, unlike most bands in the genre.

Original members Michael Franzino, who plays guitar and used to be the lead vocalist,  guitarist Ben Waicek, bassist Michael Littlefield, and drummer Joseph Arrington still shine in their unpredictable skips and shifts in the music. They’re still masters of mind-fuckery, which is one of the best things to come from this release. You never know what’s coming, and that’s a beautiful thing.

“Recluse” is especially gifted in this department, abruptly switching from the incomprehensible intro to the twitchy transition, followed by a powerful screaming section, a groovy breakdown, a trumpet section, and all the way around again.

“Shaking of the Frame” is a fitting, monumental end to No Place. It has its share of catchy timing fluctuations and breakdowns, as well as a nice trumpet section reminiscent of Plan B. Lockwood goes crazy toward the end with his signature screaming, bringing the album to a satisfying close.

Travis also does a much better of a job of blending in on this record, establishing himself as a true band member who doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb, as he did on 2011’s Conversation Piece. With this release, A Lot Like Birds seems headed in the right direction—back to its roots. Still, the cool movie samples and insane saxophone are dearly missed and should be revisited with the band’s next release.

A Lot Like Birds brings hope for a more creative screamo scene. Sadly, the band has courted popularity by resorting to the muddled, repetitive music currently choking the genre, but No Place shows signs of reverting to its former greatness.

A Lot Like Birds – No Place tracklist:

1. “In Trances”
2. “No Nature”
3. “No Nurture”
4. “Next to Ungodliness”
5. “Connector”
6. “Myth of Lasting Sympathy”
7. “Hand Over Mouth Over and Over”
8. “Kuroi Ledge”
9. “Recluse”
10. “Shaking of the Frame”

Chicago band Emblems new EP Solstice is a glum and forlorn. The three-song EP isn’t quite enough to fully grasp what Emblems is trying to achieve musically, but it gives listeners a taste of what Emblems style.

The first track on the EP, “Tree Coats,” introduces listeners to Emblems’ darker rock sound. While this track is the first listen of the band, it is too long and rambles when it could have been much more effective had it been shorter and cleaner. There also isn’t any progression on the track, ending in exactly the same way it starts, a constant straightforward gloomy nondescript beat. The melancholic, monotone vocals aren’t engaging enough either, nor are they easy to understand. “Tree Coats” doesn’t go anywhere for its four and a half minutes, which is somewhat frustrating.

The quartet is made up of a cello, guitar, bass and drums, none of which do terribly interesting work throughout the track.

“Paper Airplanes” has more solos by cellist Lindsey Miller. This track has a more engaging structure to it that sounds polished. “Paper Airplanes” is the cleanest of the three tracks. It has a melody in the beginning highlighting the drums, and the sound of the track changes, making it more interesting than the other two songs sonically. The ebbs and flows of this track grab one’s attention.

An eerie ending to “Paper Airplanes” leads into the beginning of the final track “Rotten Woods.” The cello stands out on this track as well. It is featured throughout, but without it the track would not be particularly special. There is an acoustic guitar that changes things up, but it still functions as the electric guitar does on the other two tracks.

On “Tree Coats” and “Rotten Woods,” the instruments don’t mesh well. They sound unintentionally off. The way the instruments are arranged and operate on a given track do not sound like they flow together and are in sync. Each track also yearns for something more.

Emblems needs to incorporate another instrument or melody in order to maintain interest.

Quite frankly, the vocals are so oddly sung that if they are the creative driving force of a track, they are too difficult to understand, thus defeating the purpose. When they are understandable, they are not jaw dropping. For example, “We flew down from the petals of giant lilies in parachutes / I swear my harness is tearing,” on “Rotten Woods,” is the most interesting lyric that could also be clearly heard.

Solstice lacks some cleanliness, intrigue and variety. Perhaps if the EP had more tracks Emblems’ sound would be clearer, yet the three tracks on Solstice needed more tweaking to meet the full potential.

Emblems – Solstice tracklist:

1. “Tree Coats”
2. “Paper Airplanes”
3. “Rotten Woods”

The Chicago Tribune could not be more right in declaring French songstress Julie Meckler as one of their “Artists to Watch in 2011,” although her debut album Queenshead is finally hitting us two years later thanks to a successful Kickstarter from back then.

Meckler, who was formerly an actress overseas, is joined by  a group of Chicago veterans that includes bassist Brett Bakshis (Wooden Rings, Belleisle), guitarist Will Phalen, guest guitarist Ryan Anderson (Go Long Mule), trumpeter James Davis (ALDRIC, Zing!) and drummer/percussionist Shawn Rios (Stolen Silver, Dick Prall). The journey began when Meckler chose to pick up an acoustic guitar and move to America in pursuit of a music career in 2008, having no previous success or experience in the business. She fared well, and over the course of the past five years has formed a talented band with the seasoned musicians that push her songwriting and skill to its full potential.

Since her arrival in 2008 she has called many major cities home, though she eventually fell in love with Chicago and settled there with bandmate and husband James Davis. Her experience traveling across the nation has a large influence on her music, which is apparent on songs like “Manhattan” and the title track “Queen’s Head,” among others.

Her songwriting draws influence from a number of differing genres that include pop rock, blues, reggae, French alternative music, and many more.

Her ability to jump from style to style is astonishing, as she is able to make each of them her own and execute them flawlessly.

Possibly the best example of this is her cover of David Bowie’s famous track “Soul Love,” which she turned from a catchy rock song into a catchier, seductive, elevator music-esque track that will make you sway to the memorable melody and danceable beat. The cover is also an apt example of her vocal control, which she shows off exquisitely in one of the best tracks on Queenshead regardless of the fact that it is a cover. They took a popular song and did such a great job of making it their own that you can barely tell it’s the same song.

The thing that will make you remember Meckler’s music is her warm, delicate voice, which is rivaled by few when it comes to elegance and beauty. In addition to her already identifiably unique voice, the incorporation of French lyrics into her predominantly English songs is another tell-tale sign of her writing. Songs like “The Dresses Song” and “Laissez Moi” are examples of this juxtaposition, and prove that she could easily have solely French music that an American would listen to despite the language barrier.

Another common characteristic in her music is Davis’s obvious presence in many of the songs. His emphatic contributions are usually the forefront of the composition, whether Meckler is singing or not. His dominant style feels fitting when blended with the rest of the bnd, almost becoming the lead instrument through his ornate embellishments. His highlighting songs include the poppy album opener “Me and the Waves,” the calming “Motel,” and reggae-inspired “Bitch.”

As one unified work of art, Queenshead is a well-thought-out beauty of an album. All of the songs are satisfying to listen to and have heaps of emotional value. Though this is true, the album could have had a better ending. “Deportation Blues” is a bluesy track with powerful bass and quivering guitar, but it somehow feels as if it falls short from the bar that was set from the get-go. The song seems a little boring and a bit dragged-out, unlike any of the preceding tracks.

Despite the hiccup at the end, Queenshead is a fantastic example of quality, original new music. Meckler and company did a wonderful job making this album a cohesive work of art as opposed to a bundle of songs haphazardly thrown together for lack of good material.

Julie Meckler – Queenshead tracklisting:

1. “Me and the Waves”
2. “Soul Love”
3. “Manhattan”
4. “All Your Pretty Things”
5. “The Cigarettes Song”
6. “Queen’s Head”
7. “Motel”
8. “Bitch”
9. “Laissez Moi”
10. “Desire”
11. “The Dresses Song”
12. “Forest”
13. “Deportation Blues”

Ezra Furman takes being a punk kid to a completely different level with his new album Day of the Dog. If moshing to saxophones is your style, this album is for you.

Day of the Dog opens explosively with “I Wanna Destroy Myself.” A saxophone and piano make an appearance, adding some unexpected instrumentation for such an aggressive track. They are heard throughout the album, especially on “Walk on in Darkness,” giving the album a unique, slightly ska vibe, combined with vintage oldies and rock-n-roll sounds on the rest of the album.

No two tracks are alike. While they mostly include all the same instruments, there is essentially no repetition in sound.

Swinging from “Cold Hands,” a strange love song, to “The Mall,” a ’60s-infused number with much darker lyrics, and around to the title track, a bluesy almost-ballad, Day of the Dog is an eclectic album, but each song has Furman’s stamp. They’re all a strange, indie-rock/punk/folk/blues mixture.

Furman’s songwriting is a little ridiculous, but in a good way. Day of the Dog features pessimistic or self-loathing lyrics juxtaposed with upbeat music. The standout example is the snazzy and jazzy instrumentation of the “Tell ‘Em All to Go to Hell,” in which the title is the main lyric.

When Furman references himself, which is often, it takes shape as rather vivid revulsion. “All the world is rising up like vomit/Filling up my ugly little mouth/There’s a sickness deep inside my eyeball/Got to find the tool to cut it out,” he sings on “I Wanna Destroy Myself.” And on “My Zero,” Furman croons, “I’ve gone away forever/The wrong side of the tracks/My blood all filled with garbage/My heart shot through with cracks.”

Furman’s voice is not easy to listen to. He is shrill, raspy, and out of tune in the best way possible.

It fits for the rest of the instrumentation. Whether the track is zany and spooky, like “Walk on in Darkness,” or slower and channeling Bob Dylan on “Cherry Lane,” Furman’s voice adds another dimension, sonically and emotionally. The music wouldn’t be as intriguing without his voice.

Furman was formerly the frontman of Ezra Furman and the Harpoons. His first solo album, The Year of No Returning, is a bit quirkier than the Harpoons’ sound; Furman took the band’s indie-rock sound and contorted it, creating sonic edges where there were none before. His voice was raspier, the rhythms were less traditional, and the lyrics got a little crazier.

On Day of the Dog, Furman extends the differences further, making a stronger distinction between the Harpoons and his solo work. In an odd way, Day of the Dog is Furman’s surreal interpretation of his own work.

Day of the Dog is unlike much else. From the instrumentation to the voice to the songwriting, Ezra Fruman has crafted an album that makes most people’s inner punk kids and indie-rockers happy with a refreshing new sound.

Ezra Furman – Day of the Dog tracklist:

1. “I Wanna Destroy Myself”
2. “Tell Em All to Go to Hell”
3. “My Zero”
4. “Day of the Dog”
5. “Walk on in Darkness”
6. “Cold Hands”
7. “Anything Can Happen”
8. “And Maybe God is a Train”
9. “Been So Strange”
10. “The Mall”
11. “At the Bottom of the Ocean”
12. “Slacker Adria”
13. “Cherry Lane”

Poliça is the type of band that has the talent, the connections, and the vision to become bigger than itself.

Architects Ryan Olson and Channy Leaneagh formed ties during their work together in Gayngs, and since have recruited two drummers, Drew Christopherson and Ben Ivascu, and bassist Chris Bierden, to ride the variable wave of critical acclaim that their first album, Give You the Ghost created.

Now, a year later, the band has honed its dark pop landscapes into the haunting, yet hypnotic Shulamith.

The album carries a more hurried sense of anger and purpose, as easily demonstrated by the violent cover and the album’s title, a reference to radical feminist Shulamith Firestone.

With this pretense, Leaneagh shows her talents as an apt storyteller and a pointed songwriter. Her ruminations of romance, empowerment, sacrifice, egotism, and identity all cruise along the wiry synths and formidable rhythm section that is synonymous with the band.

“Torre” is a highlight here, where Leaneagh’s stream of consciousness styling culminates in a powerful chorus of identity, pride, and blame.

In addition, Poliça’s once definitional use of auto-tune has been subjugated to a lesser role, giving Leaneagh’s own vocal talents a little more breathing room. Still, on some tracks, particularly “Dark Star,” the modifier is used to great effect, producing an unnaturalness befitting the tone and timbre of the song.

With all this brooding seriousness, don’t think that Poliça has given up the funky Minneapolis groove that made people raise their ears in the first place. “Tiff,” which features Bon Iver frontman Justin Vernon, a long-time champion of the group, struts along with bouncy, spacey snyths and a shallow groove with just the right depth. Even slow drive “Warrior Lord” holds its own brooding sub melodies over those grimy synth leads that pervade the entire album, bringing a dark, yet almost calm rhythmic grind.

Shulamith is championed by the hyperactive, spazzy “Chain My Name,” the biggest nod to pop on the entire album. The urgency of the track, with its inescapable high-pitched, shallow synth leads and bouncy bass rhythms, will stick in your head for years to come. The urgency of the groove is one of the most notable moments on the album, and makes “Chain My Name” the type of track other bands will never be able to top.

The world of R&B electronica has grown into maturity in the last few years, as Poliça has come into existence, and this band’s presence bolsters the genre. Leaneagh’s vocals and Olson’s compositions are organic, and they rank among the top of all of the co-ed, indie-pop duos jangling about.

While Shulamith is not Poliça at its most innovative, it works in all the right places. It may not be long before Poliça holds the banners for indie R&B on its ascent in the music world.

Poliça – Shulamith tracklist:

1. “Chain My Name”
2. “Smug”
3. “Vegas”
4. “Warrior Lord”
5. “Very Cruel”
6. “Torre”
7. “Trippin”
8. “Tiff”
9. “Spilling Lines”
10. “Matty”
11. “I Need $”
12. “So Leave”

Chicago’s own Bottomless Pit is back to shake listeners up with its third full-length album, Shade Perennial. The band consists of past members from Silkworm, Seam, and .22, though Bottomless Pit has been the main focus for the seasoned quartet since its start in 2005.

The band has always ridden on impassioned, fuzzy instrumentals, which is still the case with this newest addition to its catalog. Shade Perennial showcases guitarist Andy Cohen and baritone guitarist Tim Midyett’s chops better than ever in the eight-song, fast-paced release, as well as engaging songwriting and Cohen’s signature yowling.

Bottomless Pit has a straight forward, classic style of writing that is a bit alien these days. The in-your-face approach makes the group seem so confident that you can’t help but love it.

Cohen and Midyett’s mastery of effects is haunting, allowing them to explore domains only truly seasoned musicians can reach.

The two former Silkworm bandmates have been making music together since the late ’80s, which is evident in their expertise with guitar.

The group has been steadily growing its fanbase and developing its sound over its eight-year existence, becoming increasingly heavier and experimental. The gradual shift toward a more suitable sound can be attributed to a number of things, including Midyett’s perfected role in the band.

Midyett’s choice in instrument is a beautiful thing in itself and adds a new element to Bottomless Pit’s overall sound. The fact that he plays a baritone guitar as opposed to a standard model lets him literally reach new lows and solidifies the already thick tunes, especially when both guitarists incorporate heavy distortion.

It is apparent that the guitars are the most important aspect of Shade Perennial, even more important than the lyrics or vocals, for the most part. Songs like “Null Set,” with an insane, J Mascis-esque guitar solo, depend on the exceptional skill of Cohen and Midyett, who play off of each other perfectly. This song adequately defines Bottomless Pit’s sound with its menacing, overdriven guitars and killer solo, showing the band’s true post-punk roots.

This is not to say that the two other members, bassist Brian Orchard of .22 and drummer Chris Manfrin of Seam, sit there drooling while Cohen and Midyett take all the glory.

They play an equally important role in the final product, but strategically sit in the background and back up the bulk of the focus. This is not always the case, however—they take the front seat and show their importance on groovy songs like “Full of Life” and “Bare Feet.”

As a whole, the band comes together to form one uniform ball of sound. It’s loud, raw, high-quality music that grabs your attention from the start and keeps you interested through the entire 32-minute release. The intro track “Fleece” is an engaging jam that sets a high standard, which is matched from beginning to end. The album comes to a close with the monumental “Felt a Little Left,” which becomes increasingly overridden with fuzz and feedback.

For a veteran group of musicians, Bottomless Pit sounds as fresh as ever on its third full-length. Shade Perennial is a solid collection of songs that proves these guys are still in their prime with a lot more left in them.

Bottomless Pit – Shade Perennial tracklist:

1. “Fleece”
2. “Incurable Feeling”
3. “Null Set”
4. “Bare Feet”
5. “Sacred Trench”
6. “Full of Life”
7. “Horse Trading”
8. “Felt a Little Left”

“Female-fronted” is a terrible term. Though informative, as an adjective it’s almost insultingly vague; it’s an injustice to bands that work hard to create a unique sound by which to be defined, and it creates gender divisions where, in a supposedly enlightened society, there need be none.

That being said, Swearin’ falls under that umbrella, along with a slew of other adolescent, DIY-minded, indie pop-punk acts flourishing up and down the East Coast, all of which likely abhor the term. Split between Brooklyn and Philly, Swearin’ does female-fronted very well. And that’s not all.

Compared to the band’s self-titled album, released last year, Surfing Strange reflects Swearin’s upward momentum.

It’s a collection of songs meant not for basement floors, but stages, and perhaps even entire theaters or ballrooms.

And that says a lot for the album’s presence—it may not be as energetic as Swearin’s past efforts (also including a demo tape and a few 7″ records), but certainly packs a punch where it counts. Surfing Strange is a complete package.

Opening track “Dust in the Gold Sack” harkens back to Swearin’s days of simple compositions that achieve classic riffage. But with a few added layers, the band shows what it’s got up its sleeve.

“Watered Down” showcases guitarist Kyle Gilbride’s ability, channeling Pavement-like melodies and vocals reminiscent of the Pixies’ Black Francis—a theme that remains present in his sporadic appearances as lead.

That same ’90s malaise appears on all of Swearin’s less straightforward songs, including the tidal wave of lo-fi fuzz found on “Melanoma” and the indelible catchiness of “Echo Locate.”

The album’s publishing duties fall under the domain of Detroit’s indie-punk bellwether Salinas Records in the U.S., which has also released material from P.S. Eliot, the now-defunct act that shared both musical style and personnel with Swearin’.

Internationally, the U.K.’s already well-established Wichita Recordings (which, like Salinas, is named after a town in central Kansas) will handle Surfing Strange. The label has done the same for contemporary big league names like Best Coast, Cloud Nothings, the Dodos, a litany of Conor Oberst projects, and up-and-coming solo act Waxahatchee—notable for being the project of Swearin’ lead Allison Crutchfield’s sister, Katie.

All things considered, Swearin’ fits right at home among these seemingly straightforward indie-rock bands that, upon closer inspection, prove their ability to work on higher levels with slower, more experimental songs.

The second half of Surfing Strange strays from the path that Swearin’ has historically stuck to, navigating foreign territory with less traditional melodies.

“Loretta’s Flowers” is the most wistful—Crutchfield gets slow and sentimental, accompanied solely by the gentle strums of an effect-free electric guitar.

“When you get older, you’ll realize this wasn’t love. It was lust,” she broods. “Or you won’t, and you’ll remain ignorant and in pain.”

“Glare of the Sun” is undeniably weird, with terse rolls on the rim of a snare drum and a Ween-like male voice whispering, “The sun is high, and so am I,” over a handful of piano chords.

Clocking in at just over half an hour, Surfing Strange is a solid example of well-thought out material by a new generation of ’90s-worshiping, vinyl-hungry indie punks. Swearin’ proves it’s got more than catchy riffs and sing-alongs, and will not lose sight of itself if it chooses to graduate from the DIY circuit and increase its velocity.

Swearin’ – Surfing Strange tracklist:

1. “Dust in the Gold Sack”
2. “Watered Down”
3. “Mermaid”
4. “Parts of Speech”
5. “Melanoma”
6. “Echo Locate”
7. “Loretta’s Flowers”
8. “Glare of the Sun”
9. “Unwanted Place”
10. “Young”
11. “Curdled”

Oakland-based punk band Victory and Associates has proudly declared that it aims to “simultaneously embrace the glorious and the foolish in rock and roll,” and the effort to make that contrast work is definitely evident in its sophomore release, Better Luck Next Life.

Unfortunately, the band plays around with so many moods and tones at once that it’s often difficult to tell exactly what it wants listeners to get out of each track and the album as a whole.

Compared to the band’s 2011 debut These Things Are The Facts, which was full of dynamic, gritty sounds and earnest, matter-of-fact lyrics, this new album feels a little too smooth and overproduced. Victory and Associates is still as loud as ever, but somehow feels a little muted and toned down at the same time.

The earnestness pulled off so skillfully on the first album falls flat on Better Luck Next Life and often comes off as more practiced than genuine.

The new album, produced by Toshi Kasai (Melvins, Federation X, Liars, Tool) kicks off on an extremely high, confident note, with the smooth punk anthem about self-sufficiency and independence, “We Have to Be Our Own Heroes.” It’s a catchy song, with a crooning, memorable chorus, but the tone and energy shifts awkwardly into the second track, “Ignore Button,” which laments the state of society in general.

“We got this freedom but this is what we do with this?” complains lead singer Conan Neutron, former frontman for the band Mount Vicious. “I’m disappointed, to put it lightly.” This is probably the grittiest song of the album, but it seems underdeveloped—it jerks around a lot musically, and the lyrics seem to be more half-focused images than complete thoughts and criticisms.

Some credit is due to the band for including Louis C.K. reference in the opening line of the fourth track, “Everything’s Amazing (Nobody’s Happy)” with the lyric, “We’ve got these phones! The signal goes up into space.” The line – a reference to C.K.’s joke about how absurd it is for people to get so frustrated with technology, considering how incredible it is – is a great start to a song that seems inspired by the comic’s regular rants about how the most privileged people seem to be the most miserable.

The chorus is extremely catchy and sticks in one’s head after a few plays, but the remainder of the track blends together musically, unaided by the blurry lyrics of the verses.

Still, there are definite lyrical and musical standouts. The band’s poppier, more upbeat tracks like “Exasperated, Inc.” and “Are We Having Fun Yet?”—which are often matched with darker, more pensive lyrics—are definitely the highlights of an album exploring opposing themes of optimism, self-sufficiency, and a frustration with aging, mortality, and the general state of things.

“It used to be beating the odds, now it’s beating the clock,” from “Exasperated, Inc.” is one of Better Luck Next Life‘s best lyrical lines, which returns near the end of the album in “A Cheeky Little Wish For Your Attention.”

Despite these highlights, it can be hard to tell from song to song whether the band is taking itself too seriously or too lightly.

On “For Serious,” which the band has said is about the defense of sincerity, the lyrics come off as more sarcastic than genuine.

Still, the album cover does feature the face of a glaring cat—a clever play on the “nine lives” idiom that suits the album title well. The record does possess many clever, self-aware moments—and was partially inspired by the fantastic show Party Down, so points for that—but these moments are far too fleeting to make a concrete impression.

However, at only three years in, the band is still fairly young, so if it can find a way to blend the sound of its first album with some of the intention and lyrics of the second, Victory and Associates might have some better luck next record.

Victory and Associates – Better Luck Next Life tracklist:

1. “We’ll Have To Be Our Own Heroes”
2. “Ignore Button”
3. “Weightless And Pointless”
4. “Everything’s Amazing (Nobody’s Happy)”
5. “Exasperated, Inc.”
6. “The End Of Memory”
7. “For Serious”
8. “Are We Having Fun Yet?”
9. “A Cheeky Little Wish For Your Attention”
10. “Taste The Danger”

The fact that Los Campesinos! is on the cusp of releasing its fifth album, all of which have been adored critically and garnered the band a more than healthy and loyal following, may be surprising to many of those who encountered its first collections of wry, messy, hyperactive songs.

But in reality, the group of Welsh indie exclamationists has become workhorses of its trade, producing a consistent stream of catchy, intelligent, sing-along indie-pop that is as personal as it is impressive.

No Blues is no exception to the rule. Like Hello Sadness before it, the new album from Los Campesinos! follows a trajectory of musical maturity and somehow more pointed, more hilarious, and wittier songwriting. The personal angst is still there, and the band’s “breakup is death” paradigm is as effective an engine as ever.

The album title is taken from the lyric, “There is no blues that could sound as heartfelt as mine,” giving an out of context, quasi premise to No Blues. This cheeky inversion of meaning is probably the easiest way to describe the central ethos of the six-piece indie-pop group of out of Cardiff.

Its musical tonalities hover around calculated, driving indie rock and an almost manic pop; it’s anything but dour. But lead man Gareth Campesinos! laces these jumpy, catchy tracks with the most sardonic and honest fillings of doom, death, heartbreak, and football.

The album begins with a volley of tumultuous, near anthemic tracks of spritely guitar and synth work and booming choruses, and journeys through highs and lows of melody and tone.

At 10 tracks, No Blues might seem short, but it may be the most musically complete work the group has produced yet. Opener “For Flotsam” negates its title’s air of destructive, seabed-bound doom in a wide-eyed exclamation of love and lust: “Knees knocking and blood flowing so I want you to know that I want to.” Back end track “Let it Spill” is the most straightforward song on the album, but still brings LC!’s gloomy charm with jangly strumming and a cruising-speed churn.

The first track to get a video, aptly titled “Avocado, Baby,” is the silliest and one of the catchiest songs the group has produced; it’s reminiscent of “Miserabilia” in its absurd effectiveness. Roman mythology allusions and cheerleader refrain included, the flowing guitar melodies, drum breakdowns, and bullhorn choruses are a recipe for crowd favoritism.

Los Campesinos!’ propensity for outwitting and out-thinking is at its finest; No Blues is the type of album that will reward the reader, as careful attention will reveal word wizardry that may initially seem awkward, but will unveil hidden meaning, double entendre, and humoristic allusion.

You don’t even need a lyric sheet to chuckle at song titles like “Cemetary Gaits” and “The Portrait of the Trequartista as a Young Man” and realize what you’re in for—a dictionary might be helpful—but you probably will need one to navigate the rest of the album.

On “What Death Leaves Behind,” Gareth labels himself a portmanteau right after creating one, and describes his relationship as tautology (which can be both good and bad), all within about 30 seconds or so.

If enough time is taken, one can expect to be rewarded with amusing and impressive wordplay at its most refined.

While there are certainly old tricks at use on No Blues, what makes it excel are the fresh and variant tweaks that have been brought to the table. For the first time, LC! has finally created a ballad that is cohesive on all fronts, both lyrically honest and musically sharp. Not to slight older tracks like “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Show Me State” or “To Tundra,” but the No Blues cut “Glue Me” delivers in a way that no Campesinos! song has yet.

No Blues doesn’t mark a big shift in the sound or styling of the band, but it does see the group more confident and more comfortable with itself. Tom Campesinos!’ musical composition and production (along with John Goodmanson, who has worked on so many LC! albums that he may as well change his last name like the rest of the group) is refined, sharp, and dynamic.

Gareth, miles away from his glockenspiel days, has emerged as an able singer and a wordsmith few can match today.  Los Campesinos! has found the formula that works and is going to keep on it, and that’s a great thing. No Blues is quintessential Los Campesinos!; fans will love it and the uninitiated may as well succumb, as LC! is in the business of wrenching its way into your head and staying there.

Los Campesinos! – No Blues tracklist:

1. “For Flotsam”
2. “What Death Leaves Behind”
3. “A Portrait of The Trequartista As A Young Man”
4. “Cemetary Gaits”
5. “Glue Me”
6. “As Lucerne/The Low”
7. “Avocado, Baby”
8. “Let it Spill”
9. “The Time Before the Liast Time”
10. “Selling Rope (Swan Dive to Estuary)”

What are supergroups for? Sure, musicians can experiment with new sounds off the clock and release a record (at no small cost), and fans get to watch their favorite musicians play out a Justice League fantasy.

It’s all in good fun, of course, but a supergroup record is a dangerous proposition.

Mutation takes a risk, welding English hard-rock and metal heavies Shane Embury (Napalm Death), David “Ginger” Walls (the Wildhearts), Jon Poole (Cardiacs), and others.

Its debut, Error 500, is a mélange of grindcore, industrial noise, post-punk, and even Queen-like operatic melodies. The band is ultimately at home on Ipecac Records; alongside sludgy label-mates Melvins and Tomahawk, it’s practically a house band.

On opener “Bracken,” Mutation front-sells its charisma with a ripple of speed-metal guitar, a ferocious lead axe, and backing vocals from Givvi Flynn and Daisy Vanbergen, who provide a welcome shot of estrogen. The song ends with Ginger’s Herculean line, “This is your chance,” and the record makes a sharp detour for song two.

“Utopia Syndrome” is a tuneful pub-rock stomp that holds a steady call-and-response like a seasoned barfly after a couple rounds.

Soon enough, though, it dissolves into a metallic mosh pit. Building on the unexpected melodies in “Utopia Syndrome,” “White Leg” breaks into another operetta with a crowd of musicians singing backup. Stretching over five minutes, it’s the longest of the set. It’s also kind of a mess, with a big chorus and grinding instrumental interlude.

In contrast, “Protein” is tightly wound as a garden hose, with a little grime seeping through. But the song devolves into what sounds like a particularly contentious city council meeting. “In the city the walls are coming down,” Ginger rants, his voice rising above the fray.

With so many voices chiming in, the song is buried in its own ideas, so when Mark E. Smith and Merzbow stumble in with “Mutations,” it’s a nice breather. Crackling with Merzbow’s synth noise, “Mutations” nicely showcases Smith’s deadpan delivery. The ‘Hip Priest’ makes the spiked proclamations he’s known for, shouting, “Attention!” and, “Mutations!”

This review should be prefaced with a disclaimer: My Name Is My Name is NOT the greatest hip-hop album of all time. In fact, it probably wouldn’t even be in the discussion. It’s not Aquemini or Illmatic. It’s not the conceptual masterpiece that Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city was.

But even though, as last year’s top album, good kid only garnered a 4.5 rating, My Name Is My Name is worthy of a 5-‘stache rating, solely because it’s the album hip-hop needed right now. It’s the album hip-hop’s been waiting for since last October, even if it’s not what hip-hop deserved.

Digesting Cass McCombs’ seventh album Big Wheel and Others is no easy feat. At 19 tracks (22 including the short interludes from the 1970 documentary Sean), the compelling body of work is the longest and most comprehensive yet from the enigmatic rocker.

Shaped by his nomadic existence, McCombs’ cryptic songwriting draws influence from his journeys as a wanderer. His lyrics are often shadowy and perplexing, made more haunting by eerie guitar rifts and bluesy loops.

But that’s what makes him so absorbing. As evidenced by the largely overlooked 2011 album Wit’s End, McCombs consistently demonstrates a talent for storytelling, and delivers it with brooding emotion.

In true form, he continues that legacy with Big Wheel, only with more transparency and accessibility.

While McCombs retains his signature tongue-in-cheek folk, he breaks through the ambiguity and provides a more raw and candid record.

“There Can Only Be One,” the shining single off the album, reigns as solid representation of this direct approach. Retaining his trademark dark humor, McCombs curses the perils of a single true love as he sings, “Broken down for days at a free motel under the Oregon Ridge/There’s nothing new under the sun/There can only be one.”

Big Wheel’s strong opening tracks lead into a body of equally compelling work, including standouts “Honesty is No Excuse,” “Aeon of Aquarius Blues,” and the instrumental “It Means a Lot to Know You Care.”

Other standouts include “Joe Murder” and “Sooner Cheat Death Than Fool Love,” a facetious look at love lost. “Even the loftiest prison can be escaped,” McCombs laments. “I wish I never met you, of that I’m sure/I ain’t any better off than I was before.” This peek into the secretive musician’s troubles is a rare treat for fans, and positions him as somewhat approachable.

It’s no secret that Cass McCombs has long harbored a disdain for press and accessibility. The 35-year-old singer-songwriter, known for his dry and humorous approach to bluesy folk, is notorious for shunning media outlets and press interviews.

So it comes as somewhat of a surprise that his seventh album offers a revealing glimpse into the obscure artist’s world. McCombs displays a gossamer vulnerability on this album. His surprising strength to offer a mature and more developed sound on Big Wheel and Others is enough to impress even the most diehard fan, and gives listeners insight into a previously hidden realm.

Cass McCombs – Big Wheel and Others tracklist:

1. “Sean I”
2. “Big Wheel”
3. “Angel Blood”
4. “Morning Star”
5. “The Burning of the Temple, 2012”
6. “Brighter!”
7. “There Can Only Be One”
8. “Name Written in Water”
9. “Joe Murder”
10. “Everything Has to be Just-So”
11. “It Means a Lot to Know You Care”
12. “Dealing”
13. “Sooner Cheat Death Than Fool Love”
14. “Satan Is My Toy…”
15. “Sean II”
16. “Home on the Range”
17. “Brighter! (feat. Karen Black)”
18. “Untitled Spain Song”
19. “Sean III”
20. “Honesty Is No Excuse”
21. “Aeon of Aquarius Blues”
22. “Unearthed”