Piebald’s last record, 2004’s All Ears, All Eyes, All the Time, didn’t seem to do a whole lot for the band; despite its abundance of solid, witty power-pop and memorable choruses, the album didn’t really push the Massachusetts quartet forward any. Accidental Gentlemen, the fifth proper album to surface from a decade’s worth of material, delivers all the loveable nuances the band has honed over the years and puts them back into the public's conscience—for some reason, it feels like they've been MIA from the hype machine and the Internet blabber-boards for far too long. Early incarnations of Piebald weren’t a far cry from what was being called “emocore” at the time, but over the years the growth that ensues both from personal maturity and on one’s instrument set the band on a path towards some kind of serious, bastardized nerd-rock that’s left them with an instantly recognizable sound and style. Anyway, Accidental Gentlemen is up there with the band’s best—completely rocking throughout, Travis Shettel’s lyrics are still sharp and to the point, and hell, even a cover of The Kinks’ “Strangers” makes an appearance. What really sets the record apart from its predecessors is the leaps in technique from guitarists Shettel and Aaron Stuart. The past was full of lots of very simple progressions and power chords, but now they’re meandering on the strings, slowly venturing into more technical, wiry territory. “Oh, the Congestion” could be ‘90s emo (a la Braid, Mineral, The Promise Ring), at least moreso than what Piebald was doing at the time. “Roll On” borders on piano lounge music, and “Shark Attack” sounds like something from the new Maritime record. Despite all those references to a decade past, this record doesn’t sound dated at all—and while it doesn’t have all the huge, goofy hooks of past Piebald, it’s more instrumentally thought-out and composed. Shettel would probably call it “music for riding bikes to,” a pastime he’s discussed in numerous songs. Didn’t he get jumped by some assholes last year while riding his bike? I’m pretty sure that’s the case. Regardless, Piebald has surfaced from their absence with their strongest all-around record to date, and we'll be sure not to forget about them this time. [www.piebald.com]

The Lemonheads have never really been a band. The Lemonheads have always been Evan Dando. The ten years that have elapsed since his last record haven’t changed him at all. He is still making the same Lemonheads record. Fans who have not changed in the last decade will enjoy it, and it will be '96 all over again. For the rest of us, a lot has happened in the interim, and another batch of Dando’s lemonade might seem pretty tepid. The songs presented here are dumb and kind of catchy, and the basic rock trio arrangements are all garage passion without much imagination. The only constants on the session are Dando and drummer Bill Stevenson. Karl Alvarez and Josh Lattanzi alternate on the bass, both to similar effect. Guest appearances, other than the ALL/Descendents rhythm section of Stevenson and Alvarez, include The Band's Garth Hudson playing organ on two tracks and lead guitar solos from Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis. The lyrics offer mundane cliché inversions on the order of “If it ain't fixed, don’t break it,” which really, if you think about it, doesn’t make any sense. It is, however, advice that Dando takes very much to heart. This self-titled release could be monikered, “Nothing Fixed, Nothing Broken,” as it finds its creator much in the same state as he was when last heard from. [www.thelemonheads.net]

Portland's Menomena shows their experimental chops here with what can only be called a diverse album in Friend and Foe. This is their second full effort following a very recent signing to Barsuk Records and their critically acclaimed debut I am the Fun Blame Monster! along with other endearing side projects, such as the soundtrack to a modern dance performance choreographed by a friend, and collaborating with Gang of Four's Dave Allen for Faux-Hoax. Looking back, there weren't many constants on Friend and Foe, except possibly that infectious blues-like rhythm controlling my neck. The instrumentals are truly where this album shines--not to take anything away from the vocals, which brilliantly fit the music at any given moment, also providing some damn good lines like "come lay your head against my chest/feel my heart beat, feel my unrest" The three staples of Menomena's sound seem to be the piano, bass, and drums. I say this because possibly the best moments from Friend and Foe are those when another element comes into play, especially those songs where the acoustic guitar plays a prominent role. Perhaps this is the draw of the band's experimentation. Just when you feel you're used to their sound, something else comes in and makes it all feel so fresh (and so clean clean) again. The most exciting moments of Friend and Foe happen when Menomena is at their loudest and fastest. Every moment in the song up to those points build this intangible feeling of suspense, just waiting for their songs to take off. When they finally do, everything comes together. Their sound transforms from computer to energetic post-rock at these climaxes, even summoning up the spiritual power of a church organ. Fortunately, they're able to avoid the sound of it all just blending into one obtuse, abrasive whole; rather the listener can still hear all the individual elements of their sound even at the noisiest of times. Menomena's experimentation is a type that while it strays away from a uniform sound, it still has a familiar quality to it, accessible even by the most simple of music tastes. [www.barsuk.com]

Matching the instant-classic Oh, Inverted World with the deeper waters of Chutes Too Narrow seemed a fair test of lead Shin James Mercer’s mettle, and anyone with at least a passing affection for well-conceived indie-pop (or a fondness for that putz from Scrubs) has thus set the bar insurmountably high for Wincing the Night Away. But compartmentalizing all expectations doesn’t diffuse the fray from the latest record, The Shins’ sonically ambitious but creatively limp third go-‘round. It took about five spins of Wincing the Night Away to realize that I wasn’t paying attention to a lick of it; five more to realize how little there was to pay attention to. Apart from the sprightly engaging “Australia,” Wincing is marred by its middle-tempos, devoid of the tender turnarounds of the band’s crowning glories. Mercer’s melodic modus operandi remains his own, but in keeping his vision clear, he’s doubled-back on himself. Indeed, lead single “Phantom Limb” is all reverb and Ronettes drums and little else worth noting until “Turn On Me” pulls the same punch only a few songs later. Mercer reaches back, too, as “Red Rabbits” all but nicks the melody from “Young Pilgrims,” and “Girl Sailor” makes a whole song of the bridge of “Know Your Onion!” There are shades to the sonics here unseen on either previous long-player, and more than anything, Wincing makes the case for The Shins-as-musical force, not merely James Mercer’s touring band. But in upshifting nuance, unconvincing keyboard solos and all, they’ve downshifted songcraft. Mercer’s once-genial lyrical bookishness has plunked itself in front of the reference desk, as certain overreaching lines—heck, whole verses—smack more of Colin Meloy’s cloying thesaurus-thumbing than his mindful poetic backbends of old. Props are nevertheless owed for making no apparent attempt to yet again pen a life-changing scene-stealer, but perhaps it was sidestepping potential cries of sellout that lead to the record’s hooks that just won’t hook and lines that don’t catch. No matter the cause, there’s just nothing here as ebullient as “Pressed in a Book,” as ravishing as “Those to Come,” as immaculate as “Girl Inform Me.” One only hopes Wincing, a pleasant if troubling misstep from indie pop’s once-brightest lights, doesn’t mean all that promise is already realized. [www.subpop.com]

Moldy Peaches co-founder and darling folkstress Kimya Dawson has released yet another batch of adorable, honest and simple ditties in the all-acoustic Remember That I Love You. Her fifth solo album (and first since 2004's Hidden Vagenda) is full of sweeping, tear-jerking narratives and grounded, friendly tales of everyday; "My Mom" is Dawson's request to the cancer cells that are draining her mother's life away, and despite the grim confrontation of death, the song's words promote something more than woe--there's such a sense of humanism and love in them that it leaves the listener feeling just as empowered as sad. The rest of the album follows with the same results, whether the lyrical content contains Dawson's plea to be cremated instead of interred ("Underground") or reiterating her favorite "on the road" songs to sing with friends in "My Rollercoaster." Remember That I Love You is the most suitable title for the disc, as Dawson's most obvious characteristic is her all-out caring for everyone. The sad is balanced perfectly with the silly, and it's impossible not to want to hug her. [www.krecs.com]

Listen up, youngsters, because Harvey Danger has seen the other side and there’s a lesson to be learned. The Washington band’s success has run the gamut from releasing one of the most memorable singles of the 1990’s (“Flagpole Sitta”- remember that? They used to play it at the swim team parties while you were doing beer bongs) all the way to releasing a gorgeous album (2000’s King James Version) that very few people heard and fewer enjoyed. Five years later, they’ve re-emerged with an entirely new perspective and more than a few cautionary tales, all of which are summarized in their new album, Little By Little. The album begins with “Wine, Women, and Song”, a track that departs wildly from the band's usual three-piece-‘n-a-poet format into a minimal, piano-based song. Sean Nelson takes on the ego associated with wild commercial success, as he proclaims “I shoulda been paying the bills instead of paying homage to an image drawn from somebody else’s head”. After their stirring beginning, the band rips into a track that showcases the guitar rock Harvey Danger became famous for. “Cream and Bastards Rise”, a nasty, stompable warning of backstabbers, proves that they still have what made them famous in the first place. From there, the album takes a twisting path that the band never dared follow before. Some of the efforts are successful (“Happiness Writes White”) while others fail to resonate so deeply (“Incommunicado”), but the experiment is clear: Harvey Danger released a very safe and predictable record, and no one cared. They didn’t make any money on it, and they went back to the little clubs. With Little By Little, they made the record no one expected, they gave it away for free on their website, and they sold more copies in the first weekend than King James Version sold… ever. Little By Little is a formidable album of lessons- but not for you. Rather, this is the sound of an incredible band teaching itself a lesson. [www.harveydanger.com]

Tales From the Asphalt Dancefloor is a curious release; the debut release of the Vodka Tonic Media label based in Tempe, AZ is a six-track compilation of various bands from the Grand Canyon State's (apparently) formidable musical underground. A preface to the tracklist in the liner notes denies any association to a "dance-punk" scene, a welcome claim. Side A: Deconstruction Unit's previously unreleased "Come On Feel It" opens the disc with near-violent synthesizers and shouted Nick Cave-ish vocals. A good track, though repetitive and partial to its drumbeat. "Petunia" is a more ambitious number, courtesy of Scottsdale's Blanche Davidian. The song owes a lot to Gang of Four--slicing guitar work and manic post-punk yelping--it's excellent, and though it's from 2002 it wouldn't sound out of place in 1979. Sex For Cigarettes' "Boom Stomp Crash" is another that's about a quarter of a decade past its prime. Scott Nelson's vocals sound way British, while the track is some combo of new wave and garage rock. Side B: Some kind of sinister, gothic industrial influence permeates Digital Leather's "Dance 'Til Dead," a track that wouldn't be out of place between Theoretical Girls and Suicide. A rough, demented listen it is, though totally dependent on your frame of mind. Billy Druid's Atomic Gospel is a solo effort, with the group's namesake playing all the instruments on the recording of "Carpe Nocturne." There's some kind of an epic sweep in this song, and something else that makes me want to say he's channeling The Fall. Finally, "Fuck Pain" ends the all-too-short EP, a product of Tempe duo The Cutters. This one's got dual male/female vocals and a pretty cool synth line over the simple boop-bap of the drums. Very German-sounding, I think. Tales From the Asphalt Dancefloor is a nice little introduction to some bands in an area of the country which most people don't tend to recognize as any kind of musical hotbed. Though we're left wondering, why only six songs? [www.vodkatonicmedia.com]

Again and Again and Again and Again is a minor EP whose purpose is to stir up some interest for the upcoming full-length from Los Angeles duo The Bird and the Bee. The four tracks meet the unstated goal--this is pop music falling somewhere between Lily Allen and The Concretes. Multi-instrumentalist Greg Kurstin lays down nearly everything you hear on the record, save for Inara George's sweet, glassy vocals. "Again and Again" and "I'm a Broken Heart" are more along the lines of orchestral indie pop, while "Fucking Boyfriend" (and the ensuing Peaches remix of the track) whir and bounce with electronics. If The Bird and the Bee's record can match the standard set forth by this EP, they'll be a buzz band and blogger favorite for 2007. We'll see what happens. [www.myspace.com]

Anathallo skillfully elicits a range of emotions in their album Floating World. At some points they stay thoughtful and deliberate, only later to give a sense of restlessness, signaling that some magnificent change is coming. Throughout any given song, there will not be one constant rhythm, or a predictable course that it'll take. They use an overwhelming volume of instruments to re-tell these folk stories that have been passed down countless (once you get past one hand it qualifies as countless) generations before them. The band truly seems to have a great feeling for human drama. I say this because it's hard not to become emotionally invested as they start off very innocently and gently, then some unforeseen, powerful, visceral feeling comes up as their feet stomp, hands clap, horns blare, collective voices rise up, and drums resonate. This thoughtful yet energetic brand of folk is full of glorious highs and meaningful lows that leave the listener intrigued and attentive. [www.myspace.com]

Mark Linkous should be dead. In 1996, the Sparklehorse creator nearly died when he mixed Valium with anti-depressants. He didn’t die, but he was depressed when he woke up from his unconscious state because his legs were pinned under the rest of his body and he lost blood circulation that left him nearly crippled. Even more depressing, the surgeries to correct his near crippledness. So, it’s amazing that Linkous isn't dead and we’re happy to still have him around because he’s created an otherworldly, thoughtful and mellow album that has a very long title and has some very long list of good people associated with it (The Flaming Lips’ Steven Drozd, Danger Mouse, Tom Waits, etc.). “Shade and Honey” is U2 ballad-ish. “Return to Me” is Iron and Wine-y. “Dreamt For Light Years In,” is a 10-plus minute quiet piece that’d work for a long thoughtful scene on Six Feet Under. Did I mention that we’re lucky Linkous isn’t six feet under himself? If he was, he couldn’t have created such a quiet and assured album. [www.sparklehorse.com]

The first strike? Dirtie Blonde doesn't know how to spell. D-i-r-t-y, that’s how you spell that word. You don’t say “crazie” or “warmlie,” because that’d just show that you never got past the fifth grade and had you done that, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to get mocked and humiliated in middle school. Middle-schoolers, yes, that’s who Dirtie Blonde caters to. Fronted by Amie Miriello, who grew up inspired by Jeff Buckley, Joni Mitchell, and Ani DiFranco, Dirtie Blonde recorded this, their debut album, in twelve daies, er, days. They could have used some more time. It’s not that their album is terrible, particularly, it’s just not good. They’ve created the sort of pop-filtered songs perfect for MTV after school lets the kids out. They don’t offer anything new to contemporary music except for the fact that Miriello has a raspy voice, similar to Joan Osborne, and is really good-looking. That, perhaps, is enough to make a few bucks in the here and now and tour around to swaying teen girls and horny boys (she really is good-looking), but my guess is you won’t be hearing much from them in the future. [www.dirtieblonde.com]

As the old cliché goes, there are few guarantees in life other than death and taxes. An unpredictable, stubborn Neil Young could easily sit just as comfortably within that list. After years and years of rumors, incessant delays and harassment from fans (long-awaited isn’t even close to the right description), Young has finally released the first installment from his Performance Series Archives. At first glance, Live at the Fillmore East, which has only six cuts, will leave diehards scratching their heads saying, “This is it?” This is it indeed. The original line-up of Crazy Horse, featuring the late Danny Whitten trading assaults with Young on guitar, is on blistering fire for the entire near 45 minute stampede taken from several 1970 shows in New York. The Horse comes out firing on “Everybody Knows This is Nowhere,” “Winterlong,” and the countrified “Wonderin’,” but it’s the sloppy raggedness of “Down By The River” and “Cowgirl in the Sand (clocking in around 15 minutes and with a hypnotic bed of keys from Jack Nitzsche)” that show the magic of the world’s greatest garage-punk band. Whitten also delivers inebriated vocals on a stellar version of his often-overlooked “Come On Baby Let’s Go Downtown” after Young hilariously gets his band members' hometowns wrong during intros. While this release is mostly for collectors, casual fans will have no trouble appreciating the pristine sound and interplay between a still-innocent Young and his goons. Let’s hope Young’s vault has more in it like Fillmore. [www.neilyoung.com]

Though still a relatively unknown band outside of the Atlanta underground, The Close has multiple releases under its belt, and Sun, Burn is the quintet’s third full-length. It’s a bit D.C. post-hardcore, but almost too clean and melodic to be pigeonholed into a scene with such an enormous umbrella. Pop music masquerading as art-rock (or is it the other way around?), the nine songs here push and pull against an adventurous, a-static background of rotating male/female vocals, jangly-yet-jagged guitars and basslines that surpass expectations. The meticulous, experimental nature of the group is a pervading force at work, canvassing every second of Sun, Burn. There’s a point where the technical headiness of the band forms a synergy with the hooks and harmonies, resulting in an album that’s not full-of-itself artsy, but isn’t going to get toes tapping on a first go-round. Maybe it’s too smart for that, or maybe that’s just not the goal—regardless, it’s baffling how the band isn’t bigger than it is. [www.goodnightrecords.com]

There likely is a reason that not-for-profit label JDub chose to promote Golem! as its next big thing. While this band, whose music is based mainly in the traditional Jewish folk genre, really does not readily lend itself to today’s mainstream, they are extremely talented and innovative musicians, integrating a harder edge to that traditional foundation, then taking it one step further by performing with guest singers in multiple languages.

Think “perfect soundtrack for ‘Everything is Illuminated’”: strongly ethnic yet upbeat and infectious. If you are searching for something help you grow in your musical pursuits, look no further. Golem’s Fresh Off Boat is the perfect launch. [www.golemrocks.com]

I like Pete Yorn, particularly after his Day I Forgot album, particularly for the song “Burrito” that’s on that album. How cool that a singer/songwriter has written a song about burritos. I like Pete Yorn for his first album, too. Musicforthemorningafter was big. So, after my first listen of Nightcrawler, I said, “Well, it’s another Pete Yorn album.” Meaning, sure, it’s good, but there’s nothing new here. He hasn’t done much musical expansion since his last album. Then, I heard it again. I realized how very, very wrong I was in my initial judgment. Nightcrawler just might be Yorn's best album yet. With producers Butch Walker, Tony Berg, and Michael Beinhorn, Yorn is now comfortable with his position in the rock world and, with this growing confidence, has created some complex, yet warm rock songs (“Maybe I’m Right” and classic ballads (“The Man,” featuring a couple of the Dixie Chicks). Yes, warm and complex, like a tasty burrito just out of the microwave. [www.peteyorn.com]

Of course people are going to compare that Sean Lennon guy to his famous father, that Beatle guy who was gunned down by that crazy guy, and well, it fits because Friendly Fire, Sean’s first album in eight years, is Beatles-esque, and Sean sounds a bit like John. However, I’m going to strike out and make a different comparison. You ready? When I hear Sean Lennon’s latest I think about Rufus Wainwright. Am I crazy in thinking that? I mean, not crazy like the guy who shot that Beatles guy, but does anyone agree with me? Maybe. Whatever. The point is, Sean’s got something good going but it also is a bit loosy-goosy. It’s just a collection of songs he haphazardly threw together, like it’s just a side job, this singing business, away from his real job (upholsterer?). Which, isn’t necessarily a bad thing really. Some songs are beautiful (“Parachute” and “Dead Meat” come to mind) but it’s sort of like Tony Curtis who does painting on the side, and Jewel doing poetry when she’s not putting conditioner in her hair. It’s nice that they have that side of them, and the work itself is nice, but it’s not their true passion, like the crazy guy who shot the elder Lennon having a passion for “The Catcher in the Rye.” [seanonolennon.com]

What I tell anyone who listens to Today Is Tonight by Chicago’s The Changes for the first time is this: "Just get past the opening seconds of the first track." The reason I say this is because the opening tinkling on “When I Wake” can be a bit much for a first impression, as there is nothing in which to ground it. And for a first impression, it’s pretty hit or miss. But after you get past that first few seconds, and you will find that there is hardly a misstep on the full-length debut by this thoughtful and talented quartet. For a first record, they seem to have done just about everything right. Singer/guitarist Darren Spitzer and lead guitarist Dave Rothblatt trade vocals on the twelve tracks gracing the album. And the harmonies throughout are spotless. Rounding out the sound as equal partners are bassist Rob Kallick and drummer Jonny Basofin. But the real signature of the band is the keyboards, which are pervasive on the album. They lend a sparkling quality to the songs, a lilting that can pick you up one minute, as in “On a String,” and break your heart the next, like they do on “In the Dark.” The song “Her, You and I” is one of the bands oldest songs, and it’s easy to see why it stands the test of time. It opens methodically, combining keys and guitar plucking. Then the vocals come in softly. The sound builds, and you can’t wait to hear where it’s going. The steady progression, every increasing drums, a little more guitar, a little more desperate vocals…. When it finally all crashes down together 6+ minutes later, you feel exhausted and elated – the way you should feel after you’ve just heard a great song. Bookending the album is the delicate “When I Sleep.” Yeah, this disc is pretty much power-pop perfection. Need I say more? [www.the-changes.com]

When a new rock band has the stones to open their first album with an acoustic song, well, they must be pretty confident that the rest of the record will blow you away. And so Inside In/Inside Out by Brighton’s The Kooks does. Maybe it’s youthful exuberance. Maybe it’s the fact that like their debut single, the lads in The Kooks are “Naïve.” Whatever that magical combination is that makes a band special, they have it in spades. Remember the first time you heard Supergrass’s I Should Coco? Yeah, it’s like that. Standout tracks in particular are the driving “You Don’t Love Me,” the deceptively bouncy “Ooh La,” which includes the lyrics “The world just chewed her up and spat her out,” and the aforementioned accusatory “Naïve.” “She Moves In Her Own Way” flatly explains the way things ought to be in a perfect romance “I love her because she moves in her own way / She came to my show just to hear about my day.” Showing more depth are tracks like the decidedly non-poppy and pleading “I want You,” which is still infused with that distinctively thick accent that makes this record sound like nothing else out right now. “If Only” appears to be a straight punk song, but the rhythm of the chorus really shakes things up with an inventive cadence that catches you off guard and then grabs you, pulling you along with the boys in the band. If there are any sour spots, the one that needs mentioning is the oddly-titled “Jackie Big Tits.” It’s not nearly as inventive as the rest of the songs. Unfortunately, I really think everything that follows “If Only” ends up sounding like unnecessary filler. Maybe they should have stopped at track 11? Next time, guys…next time. [www.thekooks.co.uk]

A New York City-via-Israel trio with a song from Wire’s Pink Flag as its namesake, Ex-Lion Tamer is a near antithesis to its major influences’ sounds—they’re a stripped-down Sonic Youth, or a My Bloody Valentine of un-epic proportions. Go Ghost is sloppy, noisy and melodic—a worthy competitor to its forebears, and excellent on its own terms. Reverting to the traditional guitar/bass/drums arsenal, Assaf Tager, Zoe Polanski and Haggai Fershtman serve up jagged, viscous pop with alternating singing duties throughout Go Ghost. It’s not Deerhoof-cute, and it’s not over-the-top experimental; despite that Swans and Lydia Lunch and DNA are considered influences, Ex-Lion Tamer is a relatively listenable band, rarely venturing into noisy dissonance to the point of scaring people away (save for “Charlie Head,” an excellent pairing of no-wave and post-punk.) Go Ghost isn’t groundbreaking, but it’s certainly not pretentious about it. While the band’s influences are often obvious, Ex-Lion Tamer has concealed enough to make the listener uncertain as to exactly from what era the record came, a feat in itself. That aside, the songwriting is interesting and varied, fraught with manic energy and a denial of convention. [www.tinstarcreativepool.com]

Probably one of the most unfortunate aspects of being a music reviewer is having to review a genre that you either a) know nothing about, or b) cannot stand. There are very few that I cannot look at objectively, unfortunately New Age is one of them. This Denmark-based band promotes their music under the heading of “dreamy space pop”. But a more accurate label might be '70s concept rock and '80s ethereal new-wave meet New Age. Imagine aurally mixing pez with low-fat milk (a mildly amusing concept mired in the bland and tasteless). The album’s cover art should have been a tip off – similar genre photography with a truly awful band logo. Their website has the feeling of a tribute to the Blair Witch Project. But I am not here to critique their visual marketing, so moving along…there seems to be an audience out there for this kind of music. They are getting some international attention. And yes, one must take into account that Europeans have – on the whole – a different taste when it comes to popular music. But to this reviewer it sounded too contrived. If you are a fan of any of the above listed genres it might be worth checking out. For the rest, there probably won’t be much here to interest you. [www.mewsite.com]