In these times of rising illiteracy, it's reassuring to hear a singer-songwriter name-checking Edith Wharton. Such literary allusions do not, however, ensure a great album, and “Edith Wharton’s Figurines” can't save Suzanne Vega’s drowning career. At just over 30 minutes, Beauty & Crime finds the once-inspired songstress turning in a short stack of adequately mixed but undercooked song pancakes. They vary from the desperately commercial “Frank and Ava” and embarrassingly cute “New York is a Woman” to the confidently adult “”Zephyr & I” and somewhat snooty but still insightful “Pornographer’s Dream.” The production shows much improvement, but there is not a song among these 11 than can touch early gems such as “Marlene on the Wall” and “Luka.” [www.suzannevega.com]

“We are heroes to the rescue,” sings Witch’s Hat frontman Greg Linde during “Bomb Squad,” the opening track off the band’s debut album, Mastery of the Steel. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem anyone rode in on a white horse to salvage this record. While it’s perfectly justifiable to utilize fantastic elements to convey a thematic or dramatic experience, and while their over-the-top alterna-punk above the occasional dance groove is technically proficient, the majority of the songs fall flat, making them sound like a band that should be playing at Medieval Times. [www.myspace.com]

The Locust continue their onslaught on society with New Erections, a controlled demolition of everything from frozen microwave dinners to manipulative government bodies to herd mentalities. This time around, it is just as concise but a little more drawn out. The album blows by in just about 25 minutes but seems longer because so much happens in the sonic maelstrom that ensues once one hits play. Not as scathing or as abrasive as their past material, this is possibly their archetypal album, putting out both sonic packets of instrumental chaos as well as sci-fi soundscapes. [www.anti.com]

Perry Farrell brought in the big guns for Satellite Party's debut Ultra Payloaded. Featuring the likes of Extreme's Nuno Bettencourt and New Order's Peter Hook, they're at their finest when they're at their weirdest on tunes like "Wish Upon a Dog Star," or "The Solutionists," or when Bettencourt unleashes one of his epic space-prog solos on "Mr. Sunshine." Even with occasional weak spots such as "Awesome" and "Milky Ave.," Ultra Payloaded is an uplifting record that is as fun as it is far ranging. [www.satelliteparty.com]

British rockers Fields have created an ambitious debut with their new LP Everything Last Winter. Infusing straight-ahead guitar rock with elements of psychedelia, the album opens with "Song for the Fields," which is probably NOT about the band. I got a kick out of the third track "You Don't Need This Song (To Fix Your Broken Heart)" and its lampooning of "sad bastard music" (Thank you High Fidelity for that term). Now, let's stand back and see if Fields can deliver on the ambition embodied in this album. [www.fieldsband.com]

"NOT a low rent imitation of Liz Phair," reads a comment on Jenny Owen Youngs MySpace page. The only way I can see a comparison to Liz is the confessional nature of Jenny's lyrics, and the somewhat "shocking" presentation. For example, one of the key tracks on her new LP Batten the Hatches is called "Fuck Was I." For me, that's where the similarities end. Jenny's also more folk-oriented than Liz ever was, and Jenny probably has more integrity. So in short, how anyone could compare the two beyond some superficial characteristics is beyond me? A new voice has emerged in the indie-folk genre, and one can hope she has plenty to say. [www.jennyowenyoungs.com]

"We are little orphans," begins the first track on Wooden Stars' album People Are Different. In many ways they're correct, musically, in that they're by themselves, playing an interesting amalgam of jazz, post-punk, Sebadoh-ish indie rock, which makes much of it feel dated, a part of the '90s. I can imagine the gifted kids in A.P. English listening to the Ottowa-based band, all the while sneering at the masses who listen to that Top 40 crap. [www.thewoodenstars.com]

You went to the theater expecting Ocean's 13 not expecting a lot, except that it be fun and enjoyable--though not at all sustaining. It's not George Clooney's masterwork, though it's a good way to spend an evening with a box of Milk Duds. The same goes for the soundtrack. The music, composed by David Holmes, is hip jazz, or what Holmes feels was hip at the time of the original Ocean's 11 film, the one with Sinatra and the gang. The album's problem is that it's choppy, there's no cohesion. You're getting into a tune, bobbing your head, and a minute later we're on to something else. It might be hip jazz, but it's hip jazz with attention deficit disorder. [oceans13.warnerbros.com]

Matt Arbogast's ragged voice is superbly suited to perform There's No Love In This War, an album centered around letters the artist's grandfather wrote to his wife (Arbogast's granny) while serving his time in World War II. Heartbreaking simplicity and honesty abound within the lyrics, and for his own part Arbogast backs it up with a miniature orchestra of brass, strings, banjo, mandolin, harmonica, etc. Consider the album a cross between The Pogues' track "A Pair of Brown Eyes," Lucero's "The War" and early Against Me! [www.thegunshy.com]

16 years and six albums into their career, the men of Mustard Plug show no signs of ever losing the faith in ska music. The only real change we've seen from the Michigan sextet over the years is lyrical content—they've traded in much of their silliness for political statements, for better or worse. In Black and White is Mustard Plug's angriest record, (opener "Who Benefits?" begs the question when applied to urban sprawl and/or gentrification), but songs like "Hit Me! Hit Me!" keep the band's classic, lighthearted songwriting intact. [www.mustardplug.com]

Adding to the ranks of generic Victory Records popcore is Driver Side Impact, who spend the majority of their debut, The Very Air We Breathe, running us through what we've already heard. In the end, DSI are nothing more than Hawthorne Heights' kid brother, which isn't a good thing. [myspace.com]

My friend saw my Shitdisco promo CD sitting about—"Shitdisco? Dude, that’s a great name!” (Quote not verbatim). It seems to be the general reaction to the group’s moniker. Not quickly forgotten, anyway. I don’t know if I am really into the dance-punk thing. Perhaps I’m wound a bit too tight to enjoy the pulsating goofiness of the first track, “I Know Kung Fu.” The quasi-privacy of my car helps me let loose until I hit that next traffic light. In the spirit of the catchy-as-all-fuck “72 Virgins” I’ll take it home with me and let it do what it will. [www.shitdisco.com]

Yes I'm a Witch is what happens when you let indie musicians reinvision some of Yoko Ono's voice tracks. Some attempts make for difficult listening, including album opener "Kiss Kiss Kiss" by Peaches, but the pared down approaches of Shitake Monkey ("O'Oh"), Porcupine Tree ("Death of Samantha"), as well as the primal "Cambridge 1969" by The Flaming Lips make up the difference. Ultimately, you decide where the needle falls, but, like it or not, the album, like the woman it pays homage to, intrigues. [www.astralwerks.com]

The acoustic stylings of Sam Duckworth, a.k.a. Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly, sound a little like Britain's answer to Bright Eyes. Recorded mostly in Duckworth's bedroom, the tunes are generally low key and story driven, with the lyrical content holding the album together. Sadly, Duckworth's voice isn't much to listen to and the stripped down instrumentals can become a little too much after a while, making for an album that isn't bad, but is most definitely niche. [getcapewearcapefly.co.uk]

Brant Bjork and his homeboys could very well be creative guys, but they certainly don’t show it on Somera Sol. The record is repetitive. It's boring. And, it's ineffective. The best you can say about some of the songs, like "China Rose," is that you can snap your fingers to them. Unfortunately, the vocals fit with that track about as well as barbecue sauce fits with ice cream. Bjork doesn't have a bad voice, and his band seems to have a knack for finding the right groove in every song. The problem is that once they get there, they don't ever break out of it. Good rock music should surprise you and keep you on your toes. This album will keep you on the couch. [www.myspace.com]

A gem of a follow up to 2005's Gimme Fiction, indie rockers (and favorite utensil of many) Spoon's newest, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is full of both upbeat rock tunes like "Don't Make Me A Target" and "Finer Feelings" and songs skewing slightly off center such as "The Ghost of You Lingers" and "The Underdog," which also features a nice horn section. Fans of the band's previous work will be more than happy, as Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is truly a success. [www.spoontheband.com]

After releasing what was thought to be a letdown of an album in the form of 2006's Lights and Sounds, pop punk outfit Yellowcard is back with what might be their hardest hitting and best album to date. Full of sharp guitar riffs, on-target drumming and rejuvenated lyrics and vocals from frontman Ryan Key. The overall sound of the album is huge (even bigger than L&S) and it should catapult the band back into the pop punk forefront. [www.yellowcardrock.com]

Jarvis Cocker may just be the most charming man currently recording music. Maybe it's his penchant for clever word play, his ability to turn daily observations into delightfully witty pop songs, or his playful artwork (Printed on the CD are quick bits of wit like: "Warning! Jarvis should not be used as a sedative or an accompaniment to exercise."). Or maybe it's just his accent. Jarvis is the Pulp-frontman's first foray into the universe of full-length solo recording. Naturally, Pulp fans will want to know: Is solo Jarvis Cocker as good as Pulp? A greater critic might attempt to answer that question, but not I. Instead of focusing on what's not here—in this case, Jarvis' old band—let us turn our attention to the music itself. The irresistible "Black Magic" samples Tommy James and the Shondells' classic "Crimson and Clover" to make this one of Jarvis' catchiest, most memorable moments. "I Will Kill Again," a simple piano ballad, starts out teeny-tiny in the verses and crescendos to a soaring chorus. Elsewhere, "Disney Time" opens with classic Jarvis dirtiness: "How come they're called 'adult movies' when the only thing they show is people making babies filmed up close?" If, perhaps, "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time" and "Baby's Coming Back to Me" sound a little familiar, maybe that's because these Jarvis-penned tunes originally popped up on Nancy Sinatra's 2004 self-titled record. "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time" is just as biting and fun here as it was on Sinatra's record, partly due to Jarvis' trademark lyrical snark: "'Cuz the years fly by in an instant and you wonder what he's waiting for. Then some skinny bitch walks by in some hot pants, and he's a-running out the door." "Baby's Coming Back to Me," however, receives a sonic makeover for its appearance on Jarvis complete with a beautiful percussion track (everyone enjoy the oh-so-summery marimba) that lends the track a haunting grace. Thinking of leaving Jarvis party early? Well, don't. Be sure to stay tuned for the hidden bonus track, "Running the World," to hear Mr. Cocker's thoughts on the quality of character of today's leaders. A hint: That song alone earns Jarvis its "explicit lyrics" warning. Charming, indeed. [www.jarvspace.com]

How to Swim and Live is charming enough in its own right to dissuade anyone from calling it derivative—Little Name, i.e., Lee Barker, doesn't shy away from his range of obvious influences. This debut channels much of the classic British twee of the last couple of decades and the gamut of orchestrated '60s pop, topping it off with a thick cockney accent. Barker keeps his lyrics simple and sweet, touching on love and unhappiness in nearly every song, yet keeps a steady, upbeat pace filled with brass, keys, bells and dual vocals. [www.littlename.co.uk]

Chapel Hill's Schooner has been kicking around the local scene for years—at least four, because that's how long ago I bought You Forgot About Your Heart, a slightly above-average, post-'90s indie pop kinda record, that didn't do a whole lot for me. Hold On Too Tight maintains some of that lovelorn drudgery, but focuses it within a much broader, more complex musical spectrum. '50s rock, soulful country, swervy, bouncy pop and a baritone comparable to Calvin Johnson's—this is how far Schooner has come since my last encounter—and I don't plan on forgetting them again. It gives me lots of warm and fuzzy feelings. [www.schoonermusic.com]