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PopMatters.com

Built to Spill — "There is No Enemy" (Warner Bros.) (rating 7 out of 10)

The feeling you get hearing this new record is that Built to Spill needs no new road. The road they have treaded for nearly two decades has plenty of ruts to dive into, over and over again, and this record finds them recapturing old sounds while simultaneously twisting them into new and bracing ones.

The entire album is spacey and sprawling, full of thick guitar textures, and steady but spare rhythms. Electronics, strings, and horns swirl and swell around these songs, giving the sonic palate of each a staggering breadth. Go no further than the opener "Aisle 13" to hear guitars groan and creak through dreamy verses only to harden their edge and deliver thick riffs in the chorus. Echoed notes haunt the stripped-down soul of "Nowhere Lullaby." The bittersweet ache of "Things Fall Apart" is laid on a web of intricate but fragile notes that burst in a tense, frustrated guitar solo before settling back into tired acceptance.

In front of it all is Doug Martsch's obliterating howl. He can haunt these songs with a high moan, or turn on a high-energy, nasal shout. And while like other records the words are more impressionistic than head on, Martsch captures well the cycle of recession life; the isolation and crushing worry, the cycle of small victories and minor setbacks, and most importantly the insistence to press on.

"There Is No Enemy" is not a return to form. It's a re-imagining of a band's distinct and timeless sound. The precocious energy of their early records, the moody dreamscapes of "Perfect from Now On," the guitar heroics of "Keep it Like a Secret." It's all here, but each piece is reshaped and threaded through the twisted tendrils of country and rock stretching into the atmosphere. — Matthew Fiander

The Mountain Goats — "The Life of the World to Come" (4AD) (rating 9 out of 10)

If you're familiar with John Darnielle, it probably won't seem odd the album "The Life of the World to Come" reminds me of 2004's "We Shall All Be Healed." The latter, of course, is a song cycle about tweakers, addiction, death, decay, self-loathing, the inexorable force of a junkie's deceit, and possibly Belgium, and the former is, in Darnielle's own words, "12 hard lessons the Bible taught me, kind of." Not that he's suddenly had a conversion experience (Darnielle is still as religious as he ever was; that is, somewhat so, but unconventionally), but each song here is named after a Biblical verse or verses, except for the closing "Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace," which takes on a whole book and a description.

The Bible is a doozey of an organizing principle, and it's to the songwriter's credit the songs here work as well as they do before you hit BibleGateway.com to look up what each song is 'about.' And while Darnielle has allowed himself to range freely in the subject matter, characters, emotions and even settings of these songs "The Life of the World to Come" is probably the Mountain Goats' most cohesive and accomplished album to date, musically speaking.

While the songs can happily stand on their own, Darnielle is a clever enough writer that all of them gain some added insight or impact when you look up the title reference. Sometimes it's just a little bit more of a gut-punch — listening to "Matthew 25:21's" devastating tale of watching someone you love die from cancer (and knowing that it was Darnielle's mother-in-law) is harrowing enough, but when you turn to the Bible and see "His lord said unto him, 'Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Thou hast been faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy lord,'" it's hard not to be moved regardless of religious conviction.

Darnielle occasionally includes lines from the Bible in the songs, particularly in the surging "Psalms 40:2" (which could work as Christian rock if Darnielle didn't sing "He has fixed his sign in the sky / He has raised me from the pit and set me high" with such clenched-teeth, poisonous intensity), but mostly he just uses them as beginnings, sometimes with surprising results. — Ian Mathers

The Raveonettes — "In and Out of Control" (Vice) (rating 7 out of 10)

It's perfect that the Raveonettes hail from frozen Copenhagen — their sound is seriously chilly. Take the icy charms of second track "Gone Forever," which has all the romantic warmth of a dead fish. It's not that the Danish duo is ironic or disaffected; it's more a question of musical inclination — they like it cool, and they like it sharp.

Though the Raveonettes takes their cues from classic girl groups like the Ronettes and the Shangri-Las, their sound is anything but straightforward nostalgia. By mixing My Bloody Valentine feedback with dance beats and retro winks, this duo combines so many different influences that they manage to sound completely unique.

While this isn't the best time for girl group fans (only partly because of Phil Spector), the Raveonettes don't seem to follow the whims of fashion. There's barely a hint of trendy electronica here, just good old fashioned pop music. And thank god for that, because it gives us moments like the unbearably beautiful "Last Dance" — a paean to a drugged-up lover that stands in the great tradition of "Leader in the Pack." It could make a single tear fall from the manliest eye, or, more correctly, the most disenchanted hipster. It's the perfect example of what this band does best — a gorgeous melody on the surface, hauntingly dark lyrics at its core.

The Raveonettes don't have to answer for authenticity; they're the definition of "effortlessly" cool. Instead, they can focus on sheer musical vitality, and that's exactly what they do. They are artists in complete control; if you're looking for raw, unrestrained power, well, look elsewhere. The Raveonettes aren't reinventing their formula with "In and Out of Control," but with pop this lovely, they shouldn't expect to hear any complaints. — Emily Tartanella

The xx — "xx" (Rough Trade) (rating 6 out of 10)

London's the xx belongs to the rare and dignified breed of artists who, on their debut, emerge fully formed with a unique sound and style all their own. The feat is even more impressive given that each of the xx's four members are just 20 years old. Their debut album, "xx," displays a level of confidence and group telepathy that typically befits a much older band. The music is sleek and nocturnal: a seductive fusion of Young Marble Giants' minimalist post-punk and Burial's rain-slick dubstep.

However, this is not cold music and, in fact, there is something inherently warm, inviting and just plain sweet in these songs. This mysterious "something" is most likely the lead vocals of Romy Madley Croft (lead guitar) and Oliver Sim (bass) which are hushed and sensually intertwined — much like they are seducing one another. It's a transfixing trick and the focal point of every xx song.

The band's first single "Crystalised" is exactly what the title suggests: a tidy crystallization of the xx's aesthetic into a three-and-a-half-minute gem. The way Romy and Oliver's voices melt together singing "So don't think that I'm pushing you away / When you're the one that I've kept closest" is one of the album's most spine-tingling moments. For another such moment, look no further than "Heart Skips a Beat," which finds the two of them echoing the line "Sometimes, I still need you" to each other in a brazenly seductive manner. While "Infinity" may have to fight "Crystalised" for status as "xx's" best song, but it is unequivocally the sexiest. It's knee-weakening meld of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" and Interpol's "Untitled" is utterly spellbinding.

Above all, "xx" is a thoroughly cohesive, moving and accessible album. This young band of Londoners exhibits a level of maturity, artistry and potential that far exceeds their years. At the same time, their youth and relative inexperience may be part of the key to their music's success. "xx" is more than just one of the best debut albums of the year, it is one of the better albums of the year, period. — Ben Schumer

Noah and the Whale — "The First Days of Spring" (Cherry Tree) (rating 5 out of 10)

Say what you will about Noah and the Whale's debut — and critics sure have in the past, from lauding their earnest optimism to labeling them twee-pop wannabes — they know how to write a pop song. For their new album, the band has grander ambitions. That is, leader Charlie Fink has not only composed a more fully-orchestrated, complex record, he's also written and directed a 50-minute film that is supposed to accompany the album. "The First Days of Spring" (the film) is likely to be more of a mood piece than a standalone piece of cinema. Oh, and in case you hadn't realized by now — the whole thing fairly smacks of earnestness.

Taking something from Coldplay's later album of anthemic orchestral pop, and something from Matt Berninger's expressive baritone-led ballads, Noah and the Whale tries diligently to mine out of these minimal melodies a sense of grandeur and, occasionally, peace. This works best on "Blue Skies," the first single, and "Our Window." Both songs are pretty but musically interesting, building to an effectively cathartic crescendo from simple, piano-led introductions.

One of the consequences of the album's gestation as an accompaniment (and inspiration) for the film is that listened to on its own, the album expands almost to the point of dragging. A number of songs top five minutes, and include extended breakdowns and orchestral interludes that are a little unnecessary (if mostly pleasant). And in fact, Fink proves himself an able soundtrack composer, utilizing a similar technique to composers like John Williams and Gabriel Yared of combining simple melodies with stark orchestration, emphasizing the images without overpowering them.

There's a slight air of desperation about all the film and music to-do. On their debut, the band couldn't highlight enough their fascination with Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach, couching reverence in a facetious twee coating that now seems fake. That is, it could have been Noah and the Whale's voice, but wasn't. Whether the sedate atmospherics of "The First Days of Spring" are a similar put-on remains to be seen.

To be fair to the band, they've almost pulled off what can be a remarkably elusive task: the revelation of grand emotion in a natural, rather than cliched, way. But there's just enough mediocre material that slips through to make "The First Days of Spring" more of a curiosity, an almost-successful experiment, rather than something truly remarkable. — Dan Raper