Being the Western world’s go-to future-pop artist must be stressful. M.I.A. responds to both that pressure as well as a world in perpetual crisis with Maya, a typically untamed collection of post-everything beats ’n attitude. “XXXO” was the album’s first single, which makes sense, given its mid-tempo ready-for-remix pace and pop-cult artifact referencing. But I wish they’d gone with the Switch-produced ”Born Free,” the Suicide-sampling (that classic “Ghost Rider” synth riff) bomb that she lit off on the Letterman show, much to the nation’s shock and awe. Like M.I.A.’s other records, Maya can be disorienting—“what song is this again?” is something you may wonder while hiking through this day-glo jungle of noise and rhythm—but her pop instincts blend well with the aggressive stance she constantly returns to. “Story to Be Told” employs Rusko’s new-style dubstep production to create a craftily sly tune about either fame or the voiceless victims of the world, possibly both. “It Takes a Muscle” further shows off the warmth behind M.I.A.’s persona, while “Meds and Feds” (among several others) takes the measure of this would-be global revolutionary circa now. Confounding and independent, M.I.A. remains an artist against whom so many others will continue to measure themselves. (The deluxe CD contains a special cover and four bonus songs, which also appear on the vinyl.) (Bosco)

Sure, both the Deheza twins and Benjamin Curtis, the trio who make up School of Seven Bells, had lots of experience before forming this group, but we can still marvel at how they’ve managed to more or less perfect themselves by album No. 2. Disconnect from Desire clarifies every good idea expressed on 2008’s Alpinisms—soaring melodies, spires of guitars and a first-name relationship with MBV-style tectonics. What’s different here is a bit hard to describe; call it patience, or perhaps just an awareness that they’re as good as they are. “Dial” opens like a blossom, a swarm of fuzz way off in the distance, casting the barest shadow into a world-class pop song. “Heart Is Strange” shows how comfortable and confident SVIIB is in an electronic context, letting a mechanized beat open the border into even broader harmonic popcraft. And the playfully auto-biographical “Babelonia” places those angelic voices in a latter-day Jesus & Mary Chain template. Awesome! (M.L. Thrope)

We can always depend on quality when Chicago’s Numero Group releases a compilation. Whether they are digging up long-lost soul from Columbus, Ohio, reggae from Belize, psych-folk from California or hip-hop from God-knows-where, it’s always terrific stuff. Even after six years of learning to expect the unexpected from Numero, this one still managed to throw me for a loop. The last Local Customs comp featured gospel-tinged soul from Michigan; the latest chapter centers on what must have been one helluva music scene in Beaumont, Texas, and there’s quite a variety of (usually excellent) stuff, whether it’s southern-fried boogie, psych, garage, surf, Morricone-inspired instrumentals, harmony-drenched soft rock (man, did they love CSNY), you name it. The band names are priceless: Mourning Sun, Insight Out, Sassy, Les Sages, and there’s nary a dud on the record. That none of this music ever saw the light of a day is testimony to the glut of great music from the early 1970s. But here it is for us to enjoy, thanks to the painstaking work of the Numero Group, who spent two years perusing the archives of Mickey Rouse’s Lowland studios for these 22 (28 on the vinyl, not out just yet) gems. A time-capsule of treasures you don’t want to miss. (James)

It might sound weird to say that Wolf Parade is putting it all together on Expo 86, since the Montreal band has had so much well-earned indie-success in its seven years of existence. But this album sounds so complete (you’d want to call it “professional” if that didn't seem to be some kind of put-down), such a perfect synthesis of everything that’s made Wolf Parade so popular, it might be true that the group is just hitting its stride. Credit the songwriting: It’s in the way the guitars and keyboards work together on “Palm Road,” neither getting in the way nor making room for the other. That dynamic repeats on the otherwise very different ”Ghost Pressure,” which resembles a less mopey Interpol in its cool slickness (again, not an insult!). And though actually titling a song “Pobody’s Nerfect” qualifies Wolf Parade for some kind of dork award, the song is so well-formed (and like half the album’s tunes goes well past the five-minute mark), the guitars so triumphant, you just smile. (Bosco)

What a charming and unexpected thing this Woom album is! The duo formerly known as Fertile Crescent disappeared into a barn in Massachusetts last year and emerged with a new name and this wonderful album, which recalls the honesty and simplicity of Beat Happening, Young Marble Giants, Fish & Roses and even the Velvet Underground, without sounding much like any of them—or anyone else. Muu’s Way sounds as if it was made in a vacuum, joyously unburdened by years of underground pop experimentalism. Witness “The Hunt,” which makes rhythms out of the sounds of breathing and eventually brings in a keyboard part that recalls “96 Tears” on a giddy sugar high. Like most of the other nine songs, it leaves plenty of space between guitar strums and clickity-clacking beats (constructed, seemingly, from whatever objects were lying around); the music itself feels like it’s breathing. “Quetzalcoatl’s Ship” actually does resemble Beat Hap a little, at least in its intro, before the engagingly hesitant pop creation springs to life (with ocean sounds swirling behind). “Under Muu” is almost nothing but the strumming of an acoustic guitar, and never has something so simple sounded so monumental; much the same could be said about the album as a whole. We’ll be demanding that you indie-pop kids give this underdog album a chance for months to come! (M.L. Thrope)

Noveller is the nom de guitar of Brooklynite Sarah Lipstate, whose last album, 2009’s Red Rainbows, was a jarring, technicolor rampage through sculpted noise and crashing dynamics. For Desert Fires, her third, she’s downshifted and come up with something somehow lighter and deeper, invoking the expansive excursions of everyone from Eno to New Zealand ambient-guitar master Roy Montgomery. The opening piece, “Almost Alright,” layers tones and textures in an unraveling stream, simultaneously ambient and intensely present with its picked figures punctuating a dark, slightly ominous background. That’s Noveller’s coolest move, subtly shading a bright canvas with a counterpoint mood, as on “Same,” a beguiling three minutes that seem to operate on several levels at once: serene and pensive, yet somehow suffused with nameless menace. Through it all, Lipstate maintains the rigorous hand of a composer, as well as diviner of her instrument’s mysteries. Highly recommended for fans of ambient music that refuses to just sit there. (M.L. Thrope)

The Columbus music scene has a storied past and a respectable present, but it may never have produced a band that connects classic rock and druggy psychedelia like The Main Street Gospel does on its debut. Love Will Have Her Revenge is timeless in the sense that it smears the line between mid-70s dirtbag-rawk (with its folk and country influences) and modern revivalism—a song like “Ready to Shine” draws on so much rock history in its satisfyingly narcotic drone and crystalline lead guitar that you’ll feel like the past and present of rock have collapsed into each other. The trio goes even deeper on “I Won’t Be Stayin’,” amping up the Dead Meadow-style stoner riffs while frontman Barry Dean howls into the night sky. Then the MSG turns around and turns out a confidently mainstream rock tune like “Getting Through” or “Losing Sleep,” the latter sounding like Skygreen Leopards having a nice day in the straight world. Stylized but honest, the Main Street Gospel is preaching rock as religion; come on down and get saved. (M.L. Thrope)

It’s some trick these days to make techno sound like a new invention, but with Into the Great Wide Wonder, his second album, the very good Dane Trentemøller does just that: heaving waves of oceanic power, dramatic quasi-guitar moves wagon-jacked from old spaghetti westerns, and a pop heart that beats ever more loudly the further it ranges into non-pop territory. “The Mash and the Furry” sounds like a soundtrack for Ragnarok, if the apocalypse could be staged on a Hollywood set with viking-cowboys. But then “Sycamore Feeling” is—well, “wow!” for starters, a breathy female vocal leading us down an ill-fated romantic path, and a track that’d feel right at home next to your Portishead records. “Shades of Marble” turns back into techno but acts as if years of soundalike stuff hadn’t fossilized the rules; this 4/4 pulse comes in colors, with sweeping washes of dark melody and guitar menace raked across its face stylishly. Intense and intensely beautiful! (M.L. Thrope)

It’d be slightly misleading to call Chicago quartet Maps & Atlases “experimental pop,” because on Perch Patchwork, the band’s first full-length after several EPs, they are in fact very pop and very good at it. They simply sometimes play their pop in an experimental fashion. Take “Living Decorations,” which hits many melodic bulls-eyes even as guitarist Dave Davison’s sandy vocals lead the song through some unusually winding terrain. “Solid Ground” begins with a minute of soft wisps—some wind instruments and electronic tweaking—and Davison letting a special someone that he “slept on the solid ground near your house,” before the tune breaks into a coolly clattering 5/4 gallop. While the band’s unit-sensibility is strong, it’s in the percussion (courtesy of Chris Hainey) that Maps & Atlases truly sets themselves apart: “Israeli Caves” has a joyously skipping rhythm propelling another unique melodic path (punctuated by some choice “la la la la”s), while “Carrying the Wet Wood” has a tumbling beat that works perfectly with its African-influenced guitar pattern. A curious and rewarding record! (M.L. Thrope)

The nice thing about Mystery Jets’ type of well-executed Britpop is that it doesn’t have any of those qualms American rock bands often have about sounding too shiny. The gleaming flawlessness of these classic, 80s-style pop tracks sounds refreshingly unrepentant and admirably self-aware, framed with generous arrangements of flouncy synths, bouncing bass lines, falsetto harmonies and sharp-edged new wave guitar (credit here is due to veteran producer Chris Thomas, who has previously worked with U2, the Sex Pistols, Roxy Music, INXS, Elton John, and—wait for it—the f’ing Beatles). A good chunk of the tracks—“Alice Springs,” “Show Me the Light,” or “Lady Gray,” for instance—sound like they could elevate a drunk, half-dancing 2am bar crowd into a leaping, grinning frenzy. If you enjoyed the Bird and the Bee’s Hall and Oates covers album, but wish it had a whole lot more energy, this is for you. (Abby)

The Love Language’s Stuart McLamb recorded his debut album of heartbroken lo-fidelity missives in a shed in his native North Carolina. It isn’t easy to follow that kind of origin. What makes this sophomore LP great, however, is that it pulls all the most enduring musical ideas from the first one—the candid lyricism, focus on melody, and ambition that slightly outpaces its means (when this record crackles at the edges, it isn’t because your speakers)—without trying to recreate the former’s unique atmosphere. Libraries throws open the doors of a dusty room to the light and air: It isn’t exactly clean, but it feels fresh and hopeful. The songs are sweetly nostalgic and almost optimistic, set into thick, rolling rhythms and big choral harmonies. Because, while we may get sick of referencing Phil Spector, his musical style’s got miles and miles. (Abby)