It’s been years since Brian Eno should’ve retired to a cozy life of well-paid lecturing on his enormously important career. Well, he kind of has done that, but he also continues to make new music as vital as any of his latter-day contemporaries -- two of whom accompany him on this vibrant and vital new album. Over its 15 tracks you’ll get prime ’70s-era Eno-ambience (“Complex Heaven,” the title track, “Slow Ice, Old Moon”) as well as bustling, galloping pieces such as the prickly “Flint March” and “2 Forms of Anger,” which starts in a tense simmer and then erupts into what can only be called rock music! Throughout, the master -- who plays only computers on Small Craft on a Milk Sea -- is aided and abetted by Sound Fix fave Jon Hopkins (keyboards and electronics) and Leo Abrahams (guitar and laptop), who add key elements to each piece that are easy to spot. Sheer brilliance, and the packaging is lovely and Eno-esque as well. (M.L. Thrope)

On his umpteenth album -- seriously, James Jackson Toth has trod a loooong road through the folk forests of psychedelic music -- Wooden Wand both renews his muse and comes off sounding deliriously weary, that aching yet deeply satisfying feeling of, well, having trod a long road! Death Seat’s 12 songs have a beautifully lived-in vibe, what you’d expect from a guy who’d write a haunted tune called “Servant to Blues” that sounds like something beamed in from an old crossroads where psych, folk, blues and gospel meet. “I Wanna Make a Difference” also sounds like a rootsy update on an old bluesman’s lament, faintly hopeful -- a spirit that abandons Mr. Wand on the following “Ms Mowse,” a song so cursed with the sadness of Fate that you’ll feel the pain in your bones. While the album is based around his vocals and simple acoustic strumming, a bunch of players add subtle touches throughout: pedal steel, harmonica, a bit of piano. It’s easy to take an artist for granted when he’s recorded so much; don’t make that mistake with Wooden Wand. (M.L. Thrope)

It’s no insult to say that Matt and Kim are still playing like it’s 2006 in Williamsburg. They just haven’t let go of the infectious energy of that time -- or the hooks, or the beats. Sidewalks is the smiling duo’s third album, and probably the first to come with expectations, since last year’s Grand made an appearance on the Top 200 charts. They don’t sound stressed, though: “Red Paint” blooms with spirit, a memorable synth melody winding it’s way around Matt’s impassioned vocal and Kim’s steady-as-a-rock drumming. While most of the songs could loosely be described that way -- when your band has two people in it there’s only so many things you can do in a song -- on Sidewalks the duo gets its collective head around the issues of growing up in a scene that celebrates perpetual youth. “Where You’re Coming From” shows Matt and Kim’s subtler side (even while it bounces along), and “Northeast” stands out as their slow-jam/slow-dance ballad (if you know any high schools looking for a prom theme...). (Bosco)

This is music for inside days. Benoit Pioulard is the nom d’electronica of Thomas Meluch, whose third album for Kranky, Lasted, maintains the moody, pensive forests of homemade sounds from his past work while considerably upping the songwriting: The title track’s sustained atmosphere (partly cloudy) suggests a well-adjusted Elliott Smith with access to electronic gear, and as consistent as the song’s vibe is, it immediately dissipates into the sepia abstraction of the short, staticky instrumental “Weird Door.” So this is an album of two (at least) modes, sometimes alternated and sometimes, as on “Sault,” blended: a wash of tones recedes like a wave, yielding to Meluch’s lovely minor-key guitar work and aching vocals. If this sounds overly glum, it isn’t, but to prove it, check out “Shouting Distance,” a skipping, bittersweet tune that outdoes almost all of the indie-beach bands trying to pluck at your pop-heartstrings these days. Top-notch stuff, worth a long, lingering listen. (M.L. Thrope)

One half of the fabled ambient group Stars of the Lid, Brian McBride comes correct with his second album of gorgeous, sweeping tones ’n drones. Composed as the score for a doc about the portentous disappearance of bee colonies, The Effective Disconnect is an album of slow changes and grand beauty. Fans of SotL will find nothing too surprising here, which ain’t a problem in the least: The piano notes that dot “Toil Theme Part 1” are shocking in their austerity and purpose; “Beekeepers vs Warfare Chemicals,” despite its roiling title, strikes such a graceful note that you might forget the ostensible subject matter. For 43 minutes, all The Effective Disconnect does is effectively disconnect you from your world of troubles. (M.L. Thrope)

Strange to think that this could be Animal Collective principal Avey Tare’s first solo effort under his Animal name -- these guys have given us so much music over the past decade! Fans of AC will not be so shocked at the general sound of Down There: echoing vocal trills, murky sound environments giving sudden way to shimmering and/or shuddering melodies, and crypto-angelic harmonies. But this is an album of songs, if prickly ones, and the title gives some indication of where Avey’s at emotionally: Times are tough, and this album is his way of both writhing around “down there” and starting the climb out. “Oliver Twist” is a portrait of the artist as a man-boy, singing with kid-like energy while awash in swirling samples that shine like darkly stained glass. “Glass Bottom Boat,” as its name suggests, gives a view of the mess of life below, in all its awful beauty (a mess of noisy samples leads into a stark, fading piano figure). The meditative “Cemeteries” drifts forward in appropriately funereal solemnity, a soft clatter and electric-keyboard tones marking the background, while ghosts flit about. It’s dark and gorgeous, and somehow, like the album as a whole, reassuring, in part because of the soaring vocal of the following track, “Heads Hammock.” (M.L. Thrope)

There’s lots of magic in this album. While the Fresh & Onlys fit right in with the indie-blog trend du jour -- jangly, familiar, urgent, at times a little bored-sounding at times -- they also stand out from the pack on their third album, Play It Strange. Recording for the first time with a proper producer (Tim Green of the Fucking Champs), the SF quartet comes off sounding casual, but these 11 songs are clearly well-put together; their seeming offhandedness just draws out deeper emotional responses. The mesmerizing “Summer of Love” is as simple a garage-pop song as could be, yet it’s totally heartbreaking without being actually sad; “I’m All Shook Up” makes being all shook up sound like an endlessly exciting way to be; and the three-note bass groove of “Who Needs a Man” drives the point home (from this all-dude band). It’s easy to say that well-written songs plus solid hooks plus a glaze of reverb equals a good record, but somehow, Play It Strange adds up to even more. Which is all just a way of saying: highly recommended! (M.L. Thrope)

While the news that the Mountain Goats’ John Darnielle and his only literary equal in indie pop, Franklin Bruno, were going to make an album together was exciting to say the least, the Extra Lens (né Extra Glenns) is hardly a new group -- these old friends first appeared together on compilations in the early ’90s! For Undercard, their debut for Merge, Darnielle takes the vocal lead while Bruno handles a bit more of the instrumental side, resulting in a dozen songs that sound more than a little familiar (that voice!) but which also feature more intricate guitar and piano work, and a sense that there is more than one genius at work here. “Adultery” opens with electric and acoustic guitar strummed in formation, and Darnielle’s patented impassioned vocal delivery. “Cruiserweights” follows, a moving ode to -- well, according to the notes inside the record, it could be to the honor of leading a forgotten life! There are no shortage of brilliant lyrics on Undercard, naturally, and titles as well: “Rockin’ Rockin’ Twilight of the Gods,“ for example, with ’60s jazz-guitar flicks and Darnielle letting us know that “every time it rains, blank checks fall from the heavens.” As you might have expected, there’s really no shortage of brilliance here, period. (M.L. Thrope)

One of the most accomplished and beloved underground bands of the past quarter-century unveils its final studio album, recorded in 2007 just prior to the untimely death of drummer and all-around demonic presence Charles Gocher (whose passing ended the band’s studio career). This is not some last hiccup from the bottom of the vaults -- Funeral Mariachi is one of the richest, most beautiful recordings in Sun City Girls’ extensive catalog, an indulgence of the band’s trademark pan-ethnic adventurousness, fettucini-westernisms and hallucinatory opium-den folk songs. Shockingly, this album is not at all a bad place to begin for the novice listeners; it’s warmer and more tender on the ear than many of SCGs’ other (waaay other) recordings. The soft desert gallop of “This Is My Name” scores the end of a long dusty road ridden, while “Holy Ground” and “Black Orchid” reveal the depth of the virtuosic playing that was at the core of everything SCGs did. This band was and is good down to the very last note. Sun City Girls are dead, long may they reign. (M.L. Thrope)

The word “crystal” is in the album title, but this is one instance where it could’ve worked in the band name. Sun Airway is a new Philly duo and Nocturne of Exploded Crystal Chandelier is both the band’s debut and also a decent description of their sound: sun-blasted melodies bathed in warm layers of synth-tones and electronic flourishes. “Oh, Naoko” is a blissed-out swirl of indie-pop that’ll have you wishing you knew a girl named Naoko, while “Swallowed by the Night” suggests Animal Collective’s massed layers of sound without the experimentalism. In and out of song structures, these guys know their way around the sun; a solid debut from a band that is likely to just grow and grow. (Bosco)

Haunted samplers! Okay, that might be overstating it, but Small Black -- a laptop and sampler duo that becomes a quartet in the live setting -- has a cool, shadowy way with indie songcraft on New Chain (which we believe to be their full-length debut). Just dig the way “Hydra” creeps out of the shadows, just a thumping beat and finger-snaps to light the way forward. That might be the best song here but it’s hardly the only good one: “Crisp 100s” has a bit of the glam implied by its title, but the softly undulating synths and percolating melody are way too laidback to be slick. “Light Curse” has a similar in-the-clouds vibe, soft but dense, while “Search Party” pushes the beats a bit harder, to winning effect. Bigger things are in store for Small Black, I tellya! (Bosco)

This one got by me. The latest from the Norwegian proggy power trio was actually released many months ago, but I stumbled across the promo while tidying up and decided to give it a listen. Heavy Metal Fruit now might be my album of the year. Motorpsycho is worth all the Mars Voltas in the world, and if you survive the awesome 13 minutes of opening track “Starhammer,” you’ll understand what we mean: It features crunching stoner-rock riffs, which act to unlock new galaxies of adventurous sound in stunning new formations. In all seriousness, there is more going on in this one song than most bands get around to in their entire career. For Motorpsycho, heavy rock is a gateway to sprawling arrangements that could enthrall fans of Yes and King Crimson, but also Black Sabbath, as well as heavy jazz-rock experimentalists. By the time you reach the 20-minute opus “Gullible's Travails (Pt. I-IV),” you’ll be amazed that you didn’t know this band either! (James)