Like 2006’s The Letting Go, Will Oldham’s most recent effort as Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy is a slow, spare ramble; here, his song structures are even more extended, with sonics focused squarely on the vocal interplay between Oldham and his duet partner, Ashley Webber of Canada’s The Organ (and sister to Black Mountain’s Amber). Webber’s dark smolder of a voice is a beautiful counterpoint to Oldham’s warble, and the songs’ meander allow us plenty of time to luxuriate in the loveliness. Though sonically joyous to the point of buoyancy, Lie Down In The Light nevertheless includes Oldham’s trademark darkly quixotic lyrics: epic opener “Easy Does It” presents alternates hopeful and disturbing nature-vignettes, “So Everyone” is an ode to true love expressed via public oral sex, and “You Want That Picture” looks forward to death to end the pain of heartbreak. Sure to be a favorite among Oldham’s current fans, Lie Down in the Light is also a tremendous introduction for new listeners to one of the most talented songwriters of the past few decades. (Anna)

It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Jason Pierce’s storied Spiritualized, but he had a good excuse: a near-fatal encounter with pneumonia in 2005, which not only took its toll on him physically but artistically as well. Few artists in recent years have made out-of-body experiences as central to their work as the psych-hazed musings of Pierce and his bands Spacemen 3 and Spiritualized, but his scary flirtation with the other side has given a renewed purpose to his work. Never has he sounded this assured and focused, putting together a stunning album of plaintive, wistful songs in turn mournful and uplifting. No longer are Pierce’s tunes drowned in layers of drone and feedback; here he reveals his emotional core, confessional but never self-pitying, in an album that’s enjoyable as it is powerful. Coming on the heels of his terrific soundtrack for Harmony Korine’s Mister Heartbreak, Jason Pierce has shown that his best work is still ahead of him. (James)

Free Gold! throbs, drones and fuzzes, but Indian Jewelry is too cool to get excited, so they keep their pace slow. The Houston art rock group, which has over 20 guest members who fluctuate in and out, claims inspiration for the groundbreaking music of the 70s but they’ve made the experimental, psychedelic sound their own. “Bird is Broke (Won’t Sing)” has a constant pulsing that sounds the way a hangover feels, but in a good way. (It should inspire that eyes half open, slightly pissed off look in listeners.) “Everyday” pears down the instruments to focus on some sexy, echoing female vocals. And the only lyrics in the David Byrne-ish “Hello Africa” are “Hello Africa” over and over. All and all it’s a talented, progressive album that takes a tone of indifference. (Margi)

Double-barrel National action coming your way. The DVD is a making-of documentary about Boxer, good enough for that sort of thing. The real meat, though is the 12-song EP (EP? I remember when 12 songs was a full-length album). It collects a few new songs (one including Sufjan Stevens), B-sides, outtakes, demos, and live stuff; some has been previously released, but it’s good to have it collected in one place, and only the most fanatical collectors would have most of it. The band’s trademark sound emerges intact and compelling, more intimate in tone, of course, on the demos. There’s intensity on every track, but the energy really picks up at the end with the concert material. A melancholic cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Mansion on the Hill,” complete with plangent cello, builds masterfully, “Fake Empire” gets a big boost from a horn section, and “About Today” crescendos with a My Bloody Valentine-esque wall of guitar. Ignore that misguided Pitchfork review, this is a must-have for all National fans. (Steve)

Nirvana had the breakout hit, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden had the major label success (and sales), but it was Mudhoney that was the heart and soul of grunge. To do a two-CD deluxe edition of a six-song EP may seem odd; what we really have here is a comprehensive look at Mudhoney’s first year. Disc one has the epochal “Touch Me I’m Sick”/“Sweet Young Thing Ain’t Sweet No More” single, Superfuzz Bigmuff, the “You Got It”/“Burn It Clean” single, Dicks and Bette Midler covers from the Superfuzz session that showed up on various Sub Pop compilations, three demos, and one outlier, a July 1989 cover of Sonic Youth’s “Halloween” for a split single. Disc two has a pair of short but kick-ass 1988 concerts. We hear “Mudride” four times and a few other songs three times, but I’m not complaining! (Steve)

Twenty years on, they still kick ass, seeming reinvigorated for the past few years. Mark Arm’s trademark smart-ass lyrics are at their best (with occasional forays into serious darkness). His witty wordplay on the opening track, “I’m Now,” manages within the space of a few lines to reference Robert Johnson (“the black light was my baby and the strobe light was my mind”) (perhaps via the Rolling Stones), Captain Beefheart (“the past made no sense, the future looks tense”), and The Beverly Hillbillies. Does it rock? As viciously and rawly as they have in a long time, from start to finish, with no letup. The horns heard on the past couple of albums are gone, perhaps exiled because Steve Turner has come up with a batch of fuzz-riffs so brutal and monumental that nothing else is needed beyond the solid beats of Dan Peters and the fat bass of Guy Maddison. Grunge lives! (Steve)