It’s been too long since we’ve heard from the Notwist and frontman Markus Acher’s lovely, inimitable voice, last heard on 2002’s sublime Neon Golden. Of course, he has been working on all kinds of other projects, from Lali Puna to 13 & God, but the Notwist have been lying low for much of this decade. Listening to the band’s latest, the restrained and lovely The Devil, You & Me, it’s hard to believe that the Notwist once dabbled in hardcore. The Devil is a worthy and logical follow-up to Neon Golden, continuing the group’s evolution with melodic pop electronica with just enough tension to keep the record interesting and unpredictable. With the addition of the 20-plus-member Andromeda Mega Express Orchestra, the Notwist have introduced a new element to the group’s sound, adding depth and shape to such tracks as the outstanding “Where in the World.” Fans of Neon Golden will not be disappointed.

The Silver Jews have been releasing charmingly askewed country-tinged records for some time now. Thankfully, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea is no exception. For the Silver Jews’ sixth record, frontman David Berman wisely keeps things familiar, delivering as good a set of songs as his best material. The band has rarely sounded as comfortable as they do on the beautiful “Suffering Jukebox”; Berman also turns in the record’s standout track with the anthemic “Strange Victory, Strange Defeat,” which contains the record’s most amusing line in “What’s with all the handsome grandsons in these rock band magazines.” Elsewhere things get downright strange: “Party Barge” is a lighthearted tune complete with seagulls and boat horns. Another highlight is Bermans’ take on “Open Field” originally recorded by the Japanese group Maher Shalal Hash Baz. Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea also boasts my personal favorite album cover this year so far, as well as a guitar chord card explaining how to play along with each track. Lookout proves to be one of the Silver Jews’ most satisfying collections. (Christopher)

Anybody expecting the new My Morning Jacket album to sound like the last My Morning Jacket has not been following the band’s career closely. They like taking chances. They like going for new sounds and seeing where the chips fall. Whether it was the warm, horn-laden R&B of It Still Moves or the shades of reggae and soul on Z, MMJ has always sought to branch out from Neil-ish-flavored Southern rock of their early records. Now, with Evil Urges, MMJ has thrown us a few more loops. Right away, you know you are in for something different, as the title-track opener shows the band taking a stab at … funk. It’s jarring, to be sure, but the follow-up track, “Touch Me: I’m Going to Scream, Pt. 1,” is a far more convincing excursion into George Clinton land. And lest you think this was a quick gimmick, it’s nothing compared to “Highly Suspicious,” where Jim James channels a Prince-like falsetto. But the album soon settles into a nice bit of alt-country reminscent of Dylan’s Nashville Skyline. Few bands take these kinds of risks these days, and while I can’t say every track works on this record, most of them do, and that’s reason enough to celebrate Evil Urges. (Ralph)

Counfoundingly, King Khan is at once the best kept secret and most prolific pillar of what we’ll just call “garage rock” for the last ten years. Releasing multiple records a year from multiple projects, be it the Shrines, a duo with swampy soul-mate BBQ or a myriad of guests spots, it’s a wonder the man hasn’t scored more indie renowned or at least an iPod commercial by now. Equal parts James Brown wail, Nuggets-style fuzz and nostalgic bubble-gum R&B, King Khan cultivates a retro sound that shifts from shack-shaking to slowdance, always with undercurrents of humor and desperation. The Supreme Genius Of acts as a ramshackle best-of, smattered with choice cuts from unsung releases of the past several years, with a few new numbers in the mix as well. The result is actually supreme genius, or at least a top-shelf party record. The 16 tracks blur by, with highlights in the hilarious “Took My Lady To Dinner”, the party-starting “Sweet Tooth” and a pristine cover of laid-back soul classic “Crackin’ Up”. It’s time to let the cat out of the bag and start picking up what these guys have been laying down for a while now. (Fred)

There’s something inherently compelling about a chorus of voices joined in song. Seattle’s Fleet Foxes join that sensibility—virtually everyone in the band lends a sizeable vocal contribution here—with a penchant for pop hooks (at times) and void-spanning textures (at others). While Robin Pecknold’s voice is a close cousin to those of Jim James and Ben Bridwell, the songs heard on their self-titled album head into a more self-consciously pastoral (note the titles “Ragged Wood” and “Blue Ridge Mountains”) direction. And yet for all the massed harmonies and fervent instrumentation heard here, the group’s command of dynamics is subtle but definitely present. Note the drums that advance “Ragged Wood”, or the slow, steady progression heard in “Your Protector”. Fleet Foxes borrow from the folk traditions of two continents and the songcraft of two coasts, and the result is a constantly shifting, richly adorned work. (Toby)

Titus Andronicus are five kids from the suburbs (Glen Rock, New Jersey) with mile-wide chips on their shoulders. Their angst is hot and pervasive and sticks to your skin like dirty-city-summer sweat: singer Patrick Stickles rages against his own birth in “My Time Outside The Womb,, his very existence in “No Future Part I” (“I am dying slowly from Patrick Stickles disease”), and death itself in band manifesto “Titus Andronicus,” whose melody dances and stings, marked by clapping hands and singalong voices. This singalong tunefulness makes Titus Andronicus exceptional; they evoke the best of the Walkmen (at whose Marcata studio The Airing of Grievances was recorded) or even the Kinks, in their clamorous simplicity. The melodies make the sickness taste sweet, make the sour mess of twitching, thrashing anger go down like candy: Stickles’ scratchy, ghost-of-Conor-Oberst wail screams betrayal, rage, death – and the driving beats and impeccable melodies make it impossible not to dance along. The Airing of Grievances is a beautiful, unhinged terror of a record, cloaked in guitar fuzz and hummable tunes: one of the year’s best, but you’ll need to buckle up. (Anna)

A deliriously joyous record, Sloan’s Parallel Play screams “summer” like no other LP these days. This band has been churning out good records for so long now, it’s hard to believe that they can keep the momentum up, but these Canadian bad boys do just that on Parallel Play, which I think is their best outing in years. Sloan records are more or less review-proof; this is superlative pop – either this is your kind of thing or it isn’t, and if it is, boy, are you in for a treat. And the band shows a deft touch these days in deploying a nice variety in sounds and styles: The sublime “Witch’s Wand” and “Emergency 911” could pass for Gifford & Tilbrook; “Cheap Champagne” has hooks worthy of the Zombies, and “Down in the Basement” is a pure Dylan romp. Only the Apples in Stereo can make power pop this good these days. (Ralph)