RICHARD BARONE - SORROWS & PROMISES: Greenwich Village In The 1960's (richardbarone.com)

THE ROMANTIC COMEDY - “Let's Be Sad Together" EP (Rhyme & Reason)

Layne Montgomery used to wear his heart on the sleeve of his Morrissey t-shirt as the lovelorn lead singer of NYC’s The Great American Novel. Now a few years older, his yelpy bleating has seasoned into more tuneful pop singing and songwriting, but he still’s no good with girls. With 30 just a few years away, the protagonist of “Let’s Be Sad Together” pines for a girl as miserable as he is, while in “The Thirst,” our hero watches his girl ruin a viewing of “That Thing You Do” but insist she still wants to be friends. When Layne sings “it’s alright to love and be loved” on “It’s Alright To Feel,” he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, not us. The production, by Passion Pit’s Ayad Al Adhamy, verges on being just a bit too slick and polished for such unkempt emotions, but "Let's Be Sad Together" represents a nice step forward for Layne and his bandmates, and I like the fact that Layne is back to being a frontman and leaving the bass in the capable hands of Max Miller. Familiar faces Pete Kilpin on guitar and Aidan Shepard on bass round out the lineup.

QUICHENIGHT - "Camille's Market" cassette (quichenight.bandcamp.com)

Boston-turned-Nashville singer/songwriter Brett Rosenberg earns his living touring in Pujol but his quirky lo-fi solo project Quichenight offers insight into this prolific auteur's wide-ranging tastes. I met Brett at W.E. Fest 15 years ago when he was still a teenage tyro playing cheeky, witty, clever power-pop, and elements of that style endure here on tracks like "Crazy And Hostile," the Beach Boys homage "Good Gods," or the twangy "Stickin' My Nose In The Cole Slaw." But there are also forays into funk, metal, country, and faux Calypso. Ween fans should love Rosenberg's irreverent genre-hopping sense of humor

. A TRIBUTE TO LINK WRAY (Mint 400)

Music historians credit Link Wray with inventing the power chord, paving the way for punk, metal, and most classic rock, but sadly he's largely remembered today only for his 1958 instrumental single "Rumble." In his day, Link Wray's ferocious guitar style was actually banned in several major cities for fear the music would incite youth violence. You can believe that hearing Jack Skuller's rumbling version of "Slinky," or Mint 400 flagship band Fairmont's tribute to "Rumble." The One And Nines manage to recreate Wray's novelty hit "Run Chicken Run" (with the electric guitar mimicking the clucking sound of barnyard poultry.) Other standout tracks include Zachs Uncle's throbbing rendition of "Jack The Ripper," The Limbos' horn-driven "The Swag," Fairmont's version of Wray's cover of Howlin Wolf's "Hidden Charms" (one of the few Wray tracks with lyrics and vocals!) and Thee Sonomatic's version of Wray's motorcycle anthem "Hang On."

NOFX - First Ditch Effort (Fat Wreck)

OVERLORD - The Well-Tempered Overlord (overlordusa.com)

PANSY DIVISION - Quite Contrary (Alternative Tentacles)

It's not surprising that the punk band that taught America how to be comfortable with homosexuality is having no problem growing older gracefully too. If you only know Pansy Division from their mid-90's Lookout albums, you'll find Quite Contrary less twee and jokey but still just as irreverent, catchy, and saucy as ever. Guitarist Jon Ginoli and bassist Chris Freeman still write paeans to horniness, and they haven't lost their sense of humor, but now instead of singing about twinks, sex toys, and groovy underwear, their songs are tempered with wisdom and reflection. "You're On The Phone" complains about a boyfriend tied to his tech, "I'm The Friend" chronicles how Ginoli's sad-sack romantic failures have followed him into his fifties, and "(Is This What It's Like) Getting Old" offers a light-hearted countryish romp not unlike Loudon Wainwriting III's recent laments about aging. But there are some lovely love songs here too, as well as a few serious ones: Ginoli's "Too Much To Ask" angrily questions a lover's lack of commitment, while Freeman's "Blame The Bible" offers a biting political barb against right-wing Christian intolerance. And bassist Joel Reader (the straight guy in this otherwise gay quartet) delivers a powerful version of the Pet Shop Boys' "It's A Sin," with PD's crunchy guitarist replacing the original's layered synths. Quite Contracy is a long overdue delight that will please longtime listeners and hopefully win Pansy Division a new generation of fans too.

YJY - "The Same Noise" EP (Sniffling Indie Kids)

One of the delights of the summer, YJY's sophomore effort delivers four tracks of chimey indie pop that combines cocky, youthful vocals with reverb-y guitars and infectious melodies.

GLUEBOY - Yikes (glueboy.bandcamp.com)

I'm sure there are 21-year olds out there with great jobs and amazing sex lives and perfect shiny teeth and great hair and six pack abs, but c'mon, those aren't the people you want starting punk rock bands. Give me the scrawny unkempt misfit ready to take on the world, who looks around and realizes the world doesn't give a fuck. That is the sound - the fury, the disgust, the resentment, the disillusionment, the urgency - of Glueboy. I'm almost glad these guys are breaking up, because it's highly unlikely they'd ever make a record this good again. Jonathan Marty's tortured vocals don't worry much about staying on key or enunciation, but man do they capture the living hell of post-adolescence. Whether you're living through it or just remember it (like me,) Glueboy's hasn't just made an album here, but a statement. Marty's guitar flails from thrashy hardcore to catchy pop jangle, supported by Coby Chafet's bouncing melodic bass and Eli Sills' thrashing drums, and in their best moments, they sound like the three of them are tumbling down a flight of stairs together without missing a note. Pissed off and not sure what to do about it, Glueboy sound like 2016. Yikes, indeed. (Glueboy's final show will be at Aviv in Brooklyn on Sunday, August 28.)

BIG CHEESE - Supersonic Nothing (bigcheeseband.bandcamp.com)

GRIM DEEDS - IF THE SHOW FITS (grimdeeds.bandcamp.com)

ERIC AMBEL - Lakeside (Last Chance Records)

THE EVERYMEN - These Mad Dogs Need Heroes (Ernest Jenning/Orchard)

KANDEL - O Great Habit (henrykandel.bandcamp.com)

If you know Henry Kandel at all, it's probably for his tenor sax in the late, lamented flagship band of the Mama Coco's Funky Kitchen collective, Ghost Pal. On O Great Habit, Henry displays his skills as a singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist, and it's a total mindfuck. The ambitious 17-track album is a prog-rock tour de force with visits to Renaissance Fairs, Strawberry Fields, cloistered monasteries, and an infant's nursery. Songs meander in unexpected directions, with mind-expanding arrangements that contrast the familiar analog sounds of sax, banjo, and human whistling with the otherworldly sonics of digeridoo and EWI (an "electronic wind instrument" that combines a wind controller with a synthesizer.) Kandel is fearless, up to and including not being afraid to sound like a bit of an affected dork at times, but that only adds to the guilessless beauty of the sounds he's collected here. O Great Habit will challenge you, beguile you, and mostly likely haunt you.

THE CUCUMBERS - The Fake Doom Years (1983-1986) (thecucumbers.net)

This compilation happily offers long out-of-print vinyl releases from one of my all-time favorite bands, the Cucumbers, to a new generation of listeners. The Cucumbers - at the time, and still today, Deena Shoskes and Jon Fried - were one of the first bands I discovered when I started going to Maxwell's in 1980. This compilation includes a couple of singles, a full length album, and several heretofore unavailable tracks by these relentlessly cheery new-wave popsters. Yes, this music is very Eighties, but iot's also timeless - boy/girl harmonies, earwig melodies, bouncy beats. The fun includes the group's infectious first single "My Boyfriend" (which actually caused a bit of a stir in 1983 when Jon sang the "my boyfriend won't wash the dishes" verse without changing genders;) the band's sexy cover of Elvis' "All Shook Up," which helped make the Cuckes the darlings of NYC's downtown club scene for a while; and giddy confections like "Who Betrays Me" and the surfy "Don't Watch TV." The bonus track “Keep Your Cool” was recorded when the band won recording studio time in a battle of the bands sponsored by WDHA in 1985. The second bonus track, “The Body Groove,” was recorded live at Ziggy’s nightclub in Winston-Salem, NC, in September 1985 by club soundman Dan Griffin, who later became the group's touring sound tech. Give this a listen and it'll cheer you up, I promise.

EVAN O'DONNELL - Concrete Concrete AIN SVP AVR (evanodonnell.bandcamp.com)

CONNECTIONS – Midnight Run (Anyway)

MARTHA – Blisters In The Pit Of My Heart (Dirtnap)

NO ICE - Come On Feel The NO ICE (NOICE.bandcamp.com)

DIPLOPIA - A Season Atones (diplopia.bandcamp.com)

EXPERIMENT 34 - "Charismanic" EP (experiment34music.bandcamp.com)

ROY ORBITRON - Girls' Boyfriends (royorbitron.org)

UNDERLINED PASSAGES - Fantastic Quest (Mint 400)

SINK TAPES - EP 16 (sinktapes.bandcamp.com)

GOLDEN BLOOM - Searching For Sunlight (goldenbloommusic.com)

It took one song - 2009's "Doomsday Devices" - to convert me into a diehard fan of Shawn Fogel and his always-shifting band Golden Bloom. A near-perfect indie pop tune reminiscent of Fountains of Wayne, "Doomsday Devices' introduced Fogel as a smooth-voiced crooner with a sharp wit and a knack for earwig melodies. On the crowd-funded Searching For Sunlight, there are still echoes of those days - check out the wistful "Great Unknown" - but for the most part, Fogel has moved beyond being just clever and cute. If I compare him to James Taylor, you might think it's a left-handed compliment, but Taylor's early work remains an indelible chapter of the Great American Songbook, and that's the caliber of craft Fogel's exercising here. Every penny he raised to fund this album clearly went into maximizing his time recording and mixing Every tone, every instrument, every moment sounds meticulously arranged, yet always organic and natural. Fogel's voice has never sounded better - warm, inviting, tinged with palapable regret on the beautiful "Books You've Never Read," or hopeful and uplifting on the harmonic title track. This one's going right at the top of the journal I'm keeping of the best albums of the year; I'll be seeing you again in December, buddy.

SUN CLUB - The Dongo Dorango (ATO)

J HACHA DE ZOLA – Escape From Fat Kat City (jhachadezola.bandcamp.com)

Equal parts Tom Waits gutter poetry and Dresden Dolls Brechtian angst, Escape From Fat Kat City was recorded by Jersey City’s J Hacha De Zola in the shadows of Rahway State Prison. Those grim halls seemed to have rubbed off, since this album has a murky gloom that’s hard to shake. De Zola has the flair of a carny barker and the calculated use of trumpet and accordion throughout this album adds just the right oddball touches to evoke seamy back alleys and the disreputable allure of circus sideshows. “Let It Go” showcases a soulful strut while “Hold Tight” might have sprung from a Sixties spy-flick soundtrack; the cinematic theme continues on the film noir-ish “Ice Cream & Cigarettes,” the Spaghetti Western languor of “Blue Sky,” and the piano ballad “City Girls,” which transports the listener to an intimate European café. This is a wonderfully evocative album where every song seems to create its own space and backdrop. You just may have to renew your passport to give it a proper listen.

YOUNG CUM – Something To Eat (Say No Go)

Hands down, the Worst Band Name in NYC goes to Young Cum, Bones Howell’s new rock ‘n’ roll quartet. A name like that is just about guaranteed to turn off discerning listeners who might actually dig this tuneful homage to Seventies blues-based punk and Eighties Lou Reed. “Dead End Bar” is a near perfect pop song, catchy as heck and bright as a new penny, while the tongue-twisting “Big Glasses” and the urgently screaming guitars of “Bloodrage” recall vintage Jim Carroll. A bit of glam boogie enlivens the crunchy guitars and gritty vocals of “Tradin’.” I give this EP four out of five stars, but sorry, Bones, I’m taking one away for the dumb name.

BAY KEE – Wonder Wild (Human Sound)

Christine Spilka’s voice is a gift, and it’s treated not just with respect but exaltation on the 8-song debut of her new solo project, Bay Kee. Spilka’s solo turns in the Jean Jackets, her previous band, suggested a millennial Liz Phair, adept at indie-pop. But Bay Kee opens up entirely new vistas, with vocals that capture both the innocence of childhood and the world-weary ennui of a young woman who’s passing out of adolescence into adulthood. Each track here has been crafted at Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen to swath that voice in just the right accoutrements, from gossamer folk-pop to the ethereal neo-psychedelia of “Shady Birds,” with its analog synths and minimalist percussion (from ex-Jean Jacket Dominic Knowles.) There is a gentle but insistent groove that runs through tracks like “Red Rover” and “New Star” that makes the inclusion of Josh Parris’ rap on “Yeah, no” seem more of an inevitability than a surprise. This is music that seems destined for the mainstream, no matter how intimate the delivery or confessional the material.

RIOT ON THE DANCE FLOOR: The Story of Randy Now & City Gardens (DVD) (www.citygardenfilm.com)

"When the legend becomes fact, print the legend:" That line from John Ford's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance might make great westerns, but it's problematic with documentaries. If your goal is to tell the story of a New Jersey concert venue and the dedicated maniac who made it all happen, do you stay true to history and lay it all out, warts and all, or include only the parts that people want to remember? That's my problem with Riot On The Dance Floor; it's a nostalgic look back at Trenton's City Gardens and a love letter to its promoter, Randy "Now" Ellis, who's portrayed as the victim of his own obsessive love for bringing live music to Trenton.

Director Steve Tozzi intercuts found Super-8 footage and early VHS video from the club with talking head interviews of former staffers, fans, and artists, using Randy Now's current circumstances as a framing device. (Nearly broke and without any savings, Randy is seen scraping out a meager living promoting small shows in his native Bordentown.) It's a theme that's returned to a few too many times, so that admirtation for this remarkable man nearly turns to pity. I wonder if that's the tone Steve Tozzi wanted to project?

The documentary does do a great job at illuminating City Gardens' role as a major East Coast hub for the burgeoning hardcore scene of the Eighties, as well as its role in nurturing homegrown talent like Ween (a City Gardens favorite,) Vision, and the Bouncing Souls. City Gardens also became a favorite tour stop for bands like Black Flag, the Dead Kennedys, GWAR, and the Butthole Surfers, and the documentary includes interviews with Henry Rollins and Jello Biafra, who explicate that history. It's a shame the filmmakers couldn't include more documentation of some of the "college rock" superstars who stopped at City Gardens too, from the Replacements and Husker Du to the Violent Femmes and X. It wasn't all hardcore, all the time.

Randy Now, now.

After Randy and City Gardens, the third major player here is the city of Trenton itself, and I was glad to see the filmmakers take the time to talk a bit about the city, its history, and its decline, and how an unused warehouse in a scarily sketchy part of a decaying urban ghetto managed to attract so many rabid fans and eager musicians.

The documentary does a less complete job in explicating City Garden's huge influence in the industrial dance music boom of the Nineties (where's Nine Inch Nails? Peter Murphy? ) and the film barely mentions the club's long run of successful DJ-driven dance nights. You can also argue (and I will) that there's way too much Ween (and only Mickey Melchiondo, at that, no Aaron or Dave or Claude or Kirk) and not nearly enough mention of bands like Shades Apart, Adrenalin OD, Ben Vaughn. and other Jersey/Philly staples of the scene. Fugazi only played City Gardens twice, but the ubiquitous Ian MacKaye gets loads of screen time; yet the doctumentary barely mentions the Ramones, who hold the record for the most City Gardens gigs (22!)

There are a few fun anecdotes- like how Randy solved his all-ages problem after the drinking age in NJ went up by installing a hot dog machine and getting a restaurant license - but the documentary skips over the (to me, interesting) factoid that John Stewart worked as a CG bartender before his career took off, or that after Black Flag, Henry Rollins recruited his Rollins Band from the South Jersey musicians he met at City Gardens. The documentary also skips over Green Day's two soldout shows, which convinced the band it was time to leave Lookout! and sign to a major label.

The City Gardens building today

The best way to enjoy Riot On The Dance Floor is as a companion piece to Steven DiLodovico and Amy Yates Wuelfing's oral history, No Slam Dancing, No Stage Diving, No Spikes. Together, you get it all - the sights and the sounds as well as the kind of in-depth reporting that just wasn't possible in a 100-minute film. Kudos to Tozzi for making ample use of Ken Salerno's concert photography (some of which appeared in Jersey Beat back in the day,) and the soundtrack - compiled by CG alum Toby Record - will provide attentive listeners with a potpourri of Jersey bands from the era who didn't make it into the film proper. (If licensing can be worked out, I'd love to see the soundtrack released as a standalone compilation album.)

If you're old enough to remember City Gardens, this documentary will bring back nostalgic memories (and possibly some night terrors, if you were ever caught in one of the venue's ferocious mosh pits;) and if you missed the whole thing, then Riot On The Dance Floor will give you a peek at a remarkable piece of New Jersey musical history, The DVD (which includes a bonus disc of outtakes that I haven't seen yet) is available for pre-order from citygardensfilm.com.

HAVE MOICY 2: The Hoodoo Bash (Red Newt Records)

Back in 1976, Robert Christgau proclaimed Have Moicy! "the greatest folk album of the rock era" and Rolling Stone listed it in their Top 20 albums of the year. The compilation featured Peter Stampfel and the Unholy Modal Rounders, Jeffrey Fredericks & The Clamtones, and Michael Hurley, and its mishmash of traditional acoustic instrumentation and druggy lyrics set the template for the freak-folk and anti-folk movements that would follow.

Nearly 40 years later (in 2012, to be exact,) Peter Stampfel recruited a new batch of freaks, folkies, and friends, and in slapdash recording sessions over a few days in Portland, Oregon, finally managed to record a sequel. Fredericks died years ago and Hurley was invited to the sessions but declined, so Have Moicy 2 features a mostly new cast of characters and is very much a Stampfel family affair: Daughter Zoe, NYC's Jeffrey Lewis, and Seattle legend Baby Gramps have all made albums with Peter, and Brooklyn's Down Hill Strugglers (which includes onetime Holy Modal Rounder Sam Shepard's son Walker) provide backup on banjo, fiddle, guitar, bass, and harmonica. The Northwest contingent of the ensemble also includes Brooklyn singer/songwriter Kristin Andreassen (who hit it off so well with Jeffrey Lewis that she wound up moving to Brooklyn and touring for a few years in his band,) as well as folksinger (and former Rounder) Robin Remaily, who along with Stampfel appeared on the first Have Moicy!

Have Moicy 2 is much more of a collaborative effort than its predecessor, with many of the songs co-written by the album's stars; on several tracks, a different artist will sing each verse. (Happily, unlike the original, this Have Moicy - the CD version, at least - comes with extensive liner notes that let the listener suss who's singing what.) Not that Stampfel, Lewis, and Baby Gramps (who croaks like Max Schneider's Popeye) have voices that could be mistaken for anyone else. The Cd booklet provides a fascinating look at how some of these songs came togethe, and the recording process, which involved all the musicians standing in a circle with a single set of earphones for the engineer, was anything but ideal. But as the first Have Moicy proved, and as Jeff Lewis suggests in his liner notes, if you gather a few great creative folks in one studio, each one only has to bring in a small number of great tunes and you've got a classic album pretty easily. Nothing about making Have Moicy 2 went easily though, and that includes the three years the tapes sat in a studio waiting to be mixed and mastered. Now that it's here though, it's well worth the wait.

If you're a fan of the two Lewis/Stampfel albums, you'll enjoy their collaborations here, including "Nonsense," the creationist-bashing "Intelligent Design," and the lost-in-the-woods lament "The Call." Kristin and Peter team up for the silly but very fun "Butt's On Fire," and Baby Gramps' "Nailers Consumption" makes for the perfect introduction to this Northwest oddball. "Eat That Roadkill" has Stampfel updating an old minstrel song from the 1880's with comic effect (another version appeared on his Don Giovanni album with the Brooklyn & Lower Manhattan Banjo Squadron.) But while Stampfel, Lewis, and Baby Gramps stand out, like the first Have Moicy, HM2 is very much a showcase for everyone involved, so Remaily and several members of the Down Hill Strugglers get their own tunes, and none disappoint. The tracks by Elli Smith, Craig Judelman, and Walker Shepard, shorn of Stampfel and Lewis' goofy wit, nonetheless share the same warm, campfire vibe, with fiddles and banjo, jew's harp and harmonica, like something that might have drifted in on the AM band from some hillbilly radio station back in the Twenties or Thirties. And it's fitting that Robin Remaily's "All My Friends" closes the album, since it's the track that sounds most as if it might have come from the first Have Moicy sessions.

Peter Stampfel discussed the making of Have Moicy 2 in the Jersey Beat interview we did in 2014, which you can read here or listen to here.

ICED INK - "Willie Nelson Prince" EP (icedink.bandcamp.com)

MAN NAMED PEARL - -Quietus Make - (mannamedpearl.bandcamp.com)

Jersey-bred, Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter Jesse Turits has reinvented himself as Man Named Pearl, leaving behind the "aw shucks" backporch folk of his earlier recordings for ethereal dub-based soundscapes as otherworldly as the Himalayas. Droning harmonium combines with Turits' moaning vocals and minimalist drum beats on the meditative "When You Woke," while "Quietly And Slow" bravely strips away all instrumentation for a soulful a cappella blues. On tracks like "Insomniac's Lullaby" and "Atlas," the seductive "Coo" and the gently rocking "Blue Blue Sea," Turits' folk roots reveal themselves with strummed acoustic guitars and beguiling melodies, but it's all recorded with a psychedelic sense of space that's simultaneously disorienting and comforting.

THE UNLOVABLES / DIRT BIKE ANNIE - REUNION SHOW (Whoa Oh Records)

SHELLSHAG - WHY’D I HAVE TO GET SO HIGH? (Don Giovanni)

BIG FIGMENT - CHIMAERICS (Bigfigment.bandcamp.com)

From the freaky sandbox that is Mama Coco's Funky Kitchen comes the new album from Brooklyn's Big Figment, whose horn driven funk combines with Jennae Santos' sultry vocals to conjure up a mix of Seventies jazz fusion and funky prog-rock. These cats can do three and a half minute pop songs or jam forever, but either way you're going on a trippy journey where Miles vibes with Maria Muldaur and everybody at the party gets really stoned. From the nearly 6-minute "Cut Knuckle," with its anxious, undulating bass riff, to the 7-minute lysergic mindtrip of "Bug Zapper," to the smoky jambalaya of the 11-minute "Cookin'," Big Figment will keep your head spinning and your ears entranced.

LAURA STEVENSON - COCKSURE (Don Giovanni)

KINKY FRIENDMAN - The Loneliest Man I Ever Met (Avenue A)

DOCTOR BARBER - "Sick Sad World" EP (edonway.wix.com)

THE DEAFENING COLORS -
Carousel Season (thedeafeningcolors.bandcamp.com)

MINIBOONE - Bad Sports (Ernest Jenning)

A double apology is due here, to Miniboone for taking so long to review this release, and to my readers for keeping them in the dark so long about this terrific collection of pop-rock gems. While they toil in near obscurity in Jersey and NYC clubs, Miniboone shares much of the same DNA as chartbusters like Arcade Fire and Vampire Weekend. Bad Sports overflows with big catchy hooks and singalong melodies, intelligent lyrics and a couple of killer song titles ("I Know You Would Do Anything For Love But What Would You Do For Me," for starters.) The songwriting ranges from trenchant and bitter ("IRL") to Nick Lowe-like pop ("Basic Song," "Erasure") to wistful ("Any Other City") to quirky new-wave ("No Fun In The Funhouse.") Need a pick-me-up? Pick up a copy of Bad Sports.

THE PLANES - "Evacuation Kit" EP (theplanesnyc.bancamp.com)

THE ANTICS - "Emily Jones" EP (wearetheantics.com)

THE PAPER JETS - "Almost Fine" EP (The FDR Label)

Are The Paper Jets the best rock band to come out of Princeton since Saves The Day? On the strength of this sophomore EP, they're certainly heading in that direction. On the first three tracks here, the power trio echoes Cheap Trick, combustible glam rock, Fountains of Wayne's urbane cynicism, and Ted Leo's rallying dynamism. "Jo Don't Let Me" (and bonus track "As Long As I Can See The Light") are the obligatory ballads that earns extra points for sounding way more Paul McCartney than the might-be-expected Bon Jovi or Springsteen influences. The Paper Jets have brains, chops, hook, and soul. And as should be obvious, a very bright future.

THE DAN McLANE FAMILY BAND - "Passion Of The Christ/Love Me" EP (thedanmclanefamilyband.bandcamp.com)

BONES HOWELL - Bones Howell (boneshowell.com)

Bones Howell (the man and the band of the same name) has been cranking out his sturdy blues-rock for a while now, but this self-titled joint may just be his most accessible release to date. While most of these songs are built on the foundation of strong riffs and classic blues changes, Bones' voice comes across here cleaner and stronger than on previous releases. While there are elements of (pardon the term) modern rock here (think Jack White, Black Keys,) Howell also has a strong appreciation for everything from NYC no-wave skronk to Jeffrey Lee Pierce's banshee bayou howl. There are entertaining story-songs in classic country-blues style and a healthy self-deprecating sense of humor on songs like "Delivery Boy" and "Maya Angelou." (Inspirational verse: "I pay my dues/and then I pay them for you too.") Recommended.

DEERPEOPLE - There's Still Time For Us To Die (deerpeople.bandcamp.com)

DRGN KING - Baltimore Crush (Bar-None)

ACTIVE BIRD COMMUNITY - Self titled EP (activebirdcommunity.bandcamp.com)

CRAZY & THE BRAINS - Good Lord (Baldy Longhair Records; crazyandthebrains.com)

If the Moldy Peaches had a xylophone, they might have sounded a bit like Crazy & The Brains, who have been quietly building an audience with a steady stream of clever, low-key recordings and near constant touring in and around the greater NYC area for quite a few years. Part fractured anti-folk, part Jonathan Richman, part Kepi Ghoulie-style pop-punk, this is smile-inducing feel-good party music, appropriate for both children and adults (and especially for adults with a lot of kid in them.) The 7-song EP also includes ten bonus tracks of lo-fi demos and live-on-the-radio cuts.

HONAH LEE - 33 On 45 (GTGRecords.net)

Trenton's Honah Lee are back with their first full length since 2011, a hard rocking collection of alt-punk that bears a strong kinship to their other-end-of-the-turnpike brethen Stuyvesant. You can hear a strong affinity for caterwauling Nineties acts from the Lemonheads to Superchunk, guitar solos that fly in the face of millennial conformity, and a rhythm section that sounds like it's a six-pack away from a head-on collission with an 18 wheeler. The bands rewards listeners by saving "Sobered, So Bored," one of the album's strongest tracks, for last; it's a screamy head-bobbing anthem guaranteed to get even the most blase listeners pumping their fists. Jersey rocks, man; always has, still does.

CALIFORNIA X - Nights In The Dark (Don Giovanni)

KING DORK APPROXIMATELY by Frank Portman (Delacorte Books)

Tom Henderson is having one hell of a sophomore year. If you've read Frank Portman's first Young Adult novel King Dork, you already know about the fall semester, when he found himself investigating his father's mysterious death through clues left in a book collection (making King Dork possibly the first young adult novel about obsessuvely reading young adult novels like Catcher In The Rye and Brighton Rock.) This sequel picks up the story without skipping a day, as Tom returns to school after almost being konked to death by a tuba and inadvertently exposing a teenage pornography ring operating out of his high school.

While the first book coyly kept us guessing the date, King Dork Approximately makes it clear that we're in 1999. Tom, bruises aside, hasn't changed much; he's still only got one real friend, his alphatbetically-linked buddy Sam Hellerman, and both of them still dream of being rock stars (even if they're much better at coming up with band names and album jacket ideas than, you know, writing and playing actual songs.)

Portman, the frontman of the long-lived pop-punk combo The Mr. T Experience, brings the same acerbic wit to high school life that he showcased in wry, catchy songs like "Two Martinis From Now" and "Dumb Little Band." Tom's ongoing description of his hellish academic life is both a hilarious and trenchant critique of our educational system. When the fallout from the porn ring closes his high school, Tom's transfers from the hellish Hillmont High to crosstown revial Clearview (or, in Tom's parlance, from Killmont to Queerview,) trading a snakepit of malfeasance and malevolence for its freakishly perky and pepper Bizarro-world opposite. Tom is flabbergasted (that is, assuming flabbergasted means what I think it does.) You will be in stitches.

Without the mystery that drove the first King Dork, the sequel tends to wander a bit, but Portman compensates by giving Tom both a real live band and something of a sex life this time around. His band duties mostly involve finding inventive ways to keep his drummer from sucking, and his romantic entanglements leave much to be desired, but progress is progress (and, to quote one of Portman's most beloved songs, everything else is a picnic.)

Portman's always had a skewed view of romance (he is the man, after all, who wrote "Even Hitler Had A Girlfriend,") and Tom's love life takes several byzantine turns that leaves him wondering if women are worth the trouble. (Conclusion: They are.) Yes, Tom tries to reinvent himself when he changes schools, but as he admits, he's still the same old King Dork:Voracious reader, non-stop daydreamer, and a surprisingly astute judge of character. Parents and teachers might blanch at the book's fumbling sex scenes, inspired use of profanity, and its subversive denounciation of public education; but in the end, Tom Henderson is exactly the sort of hero I'd want my kids reading about. He loves books and rock 'n' roll, he's loyal to his friends and protective of his little sister, and as much as he whines about school, he's actually quite a bright guy. I can't wait to read about junior year.

LITTLE WAIST - Some Kinda Comfort (littlewaist.bandcamp.com)

Little Waist describes itself as a queer/transcore trio from Brooklyn and with song titles like "(I Wanna Be A) Dyke Wife," "Stink Body," and "Sad Muscles," themes like sexual identity and body image reinforce that message throughout this 5 song EP. But first and foremost Little Waist plays punk rock and that's not something you hear a lot these days in Brooklyn; unironic, unposed, and unpretentious, Audrey Whiteside's quavery vocals spill from the heart, backed by her rapidfire guitar and the solid rhythm team of drummer Nick Delahaye and bassist Emmet Rugburn. The trio's growing sophstication as songwriters and arranges never loses the thumping fury at the heart of the band's sound, but sets that element up now with quiet intros or glammy strumming, as evidenced by the motorik beat of "Stink Body" or the introspection of "Five Exits In Search Of A Character." What resident of Brooklyn won't identify with a line like "there goes the neighborhood/I do hope it comes back/"Cos I'm still living here." Likewise, you don't have to wear makeup to relate to the indignation of "Cops Confiscated My Lipstick" or the self-loathing of "Sad Muscles." These songs work through a lot of thorny personal issues but like all good punk rock, do it universally with memorable riffs, catchy melodies, and a beat that will make you want to move.

THE PORCHISTAS - Shoot It At The Sun (theporchistas.com)

Montclair's favorite back-porch hippie folk-rock Americana collective deliver a space-themed full-length that runs the gamut from ecologically-aware indie-pop to barn-burning jump swing to a couple of Dr. Demento-ready novelty songs. Fans of Randy Newman and John Prine will apprecaite the Porchistas' wry wit and unflagging sense of humor, even when they broach serious topics like pollution and ecology. Too much garbage on earth? Why not just shoot it all into the sun? And if the sun gets pissed off and winds up frying the Earth to a crisp, well that's just the price we pay for our hubris. A trilogy of slower paced folk tunes with environmental themes is followed by the goofy "Radio Balls," then it's off for some swing dancing to the raucous "Moon Saloon," with the Defending Champtions' horn section amping the vibe. Kelly Henneberry lends a lovely female vocal to lead singer Alan Smith's reedy alto on "A Piece Of Junk," which tells the tale of a piece of outdated technology left to drift forever in the cosmos. And if you get tired of songs about rocket ships and interstellar voyages, there's "Its'a No Fit," a silly novelty song about Italian pride that could have come from the Pat Cooper songbook a generation or three ago.

STUYVESANT - Stuyvesant Shmyvesant (sugarblastmusic.com)

Stuyvesant may not want to take credit, but the longlived Hoboken-based quartet - formed in the early 00's from the remnants of Footstone and Friends, Romans, Countrymen - pretty much invented Nineties nostalgia long before it became Pitchfork fodder. With a sound cobbled together from equal parts Superchunk, Lemonheads, Soul Asylum, and Dinosaur Jr., singer/vocalist Sean Adams and Ralph Malanga combine overdriven guitar leads and unabashedly heroic vocals into a sound that's as familiar as it is timeless. Don't fix what ain't broke is not a bad motto when you can consistently create music that's as powerful and melodic as tracks like "Baby Bear," "Hellbent For Heather," "Silent Treatment," or the pensive "Grant's Tomb." The rhythm section of bassist Brian Muskioff and drummer Pete Martinez has long been one of the most combustible in the Garden State, and together they're still making making music as forcefully energized and dynamic as they were a decade ago. Age shmage, Stuyvesant rocks.

ROOFER'S UNION - By Degrees (Flat Box Recordings; roofersunionmusic.com)

It's a pleasure to find a young band from NYC that embraces the tag "psychedelic" but doesn't feel obliged to make everything they do sound "authentically" retro. Authenticity is the biggest bugaboo in pop; it's certainly nothing that the original psychedelic bands thought about, and it's refreshing to hear Roofer's Union infuse their swirling, trippy, sometimes Beatlesque tunes with elements of hip hop, soul, and jazz. There are too many cookie cutter psyche and shoegaze bands in NYC; Roofer's Union break the mold (or at least bend it a bit) thanks to Kevin Walker's aggressive drumming and Vaughn Hunt's inventive synths, as well as Jake Champman's soulful falsetto (the kid's practically anotheer Justin Timberlake.) I'm impressed by everything on this album from the production to the beats. Keep your eye on these guys.

GAY ELVIS - Gay Elvis Has Left The Building (gayelvis.bandcamp.com)

I first met Matt Butcher a very long time ago, as the lead singer of (the second incarnation of) Paul Decolator's Loose. But soon thereafter, he joined Asbury Park's Kid With Man Head as bassist Gay Elvis, and continued to use that name during his tenure in the less punk/more pop Readymade Breakup. Now Matt has a professional career and a kid, and apparently his band days are behind him; but happily he's going out with this lovely 3-song EP in which he again moves to the lead singer's spotlight.

THE SUCCESSFUL FAILURES - "Pine Hill" EP (fdrlabel.com)

A long time ago, I fell in love with a mop-topped quartet of NYC teenagers called the Bandables. Now, decades later, frontman Jerry Kitzrow returns with the Flurries, a trio from Beacon, NY playing a blend of power-pop and Buddy Holly-styled rockabilly. Part Real Kids retro bop, part Fountains of Wayne styled alterna-pop, the Flurries eschew the New Wave vibe of the Bandables era for earlier influences; album closer "Two Carts" sounds like something kids might have danced to at a 50's prom. Kitzrow's voice still sounds boyish and excited to be playing rock 'n' roll, even with a mortgage and a passel of kids at home.

THE CAPITALIST KIDS - At A Loss (Toucan Play/It's Alive Records)

Bishop Allen's founding members Justin Rice and Christian Rudder met at Harvard, and like another Ivy League band, BA favors borrowed foreign rhythms to propel its power pop songcraft. Here it's Caribbean beats rather than Vampire Weekend's South African jones that comes to the fore, although clearly Bishop Allen has also been enormously influenced by the Feelies, with its motorik tempoes and pastoral melodies. It's a pity the album's coming to us at the tail end of summer, since it's sunny vibe clearly belongs to Springtime. You can hear other influences as well ("Why I Had To Go" could almost be a Cars b-side, and Beck and Davd Byrne clearly loom large in the group's record collection) but mostly Bishop Allen's fourth album delivers engaging, entertaining power-pop that will brighten your days through the waning weeks of summer and well into the fall.

KAREN HAGLOF - Western Holiday (www.karenhaglof.com)

For indie fans of a certain age, Karen Haglof's return to music (after taking a few decades off to become not just a doctor, but a respected oncologist) hits all the right bells and whistles: Produced by Steve Almass (of Minneapolis' seminal punk band Suicide Commandoes as well as early Hoboken pop combo Beat Rodeo,) recorded by the Del Lords' Eric "Roscoe" Ambel, and mixed by Mitch Easter, with a guest appearance by Easter's late Let's Active bandmate, Faye Hunter. None of that would matter if Dr. Haglof didn't delier the goods, and indeed she does, with a jangly album full of jangly country and honky tonkin' blues. For someone who deals with cancer on a daily basis (or maybe because of that,) Haglof displays a great sense of humor here, with clever songs like "Musician's Girlfriend Blues" and "Dog In The Yard." But she can also be sincere, as on the sad "24 Hour Prayer" or the bluesy Bonnie Raitt-like "Soul Clap."

“Revolution In The Elbow of Ragnar Agnarsson Furniture Painter”
Book, music and lyrics by Ivar Pall Jonsson, Story by Ivar Pall Johnsson and Gunnlaugur Jonsson (Minetta Lane Theater, NYC)

This Icelandic import, a musical that mixes politics, romance, and fantasy with an ambitious prog-rock score, will leave you scratching your head… if not your elbow.

The story serves up a phantasmagorical allegory for Iceland’s 2008 financial meltdown by mashing up elements from musicals like “Evita” and “Urinetown” as well as Dr. Seuss’ whimsical “Horton Hears A Who.” The story concerns the inhabitants of Elbowville, a microscopic community that lives in the elbow of the titular Ragnar Agnarsson (whom we see as a disheveled, unkempt layabout in a projection at the play’s start.) What’s more, these people know they live in the elbow of Ragnar Agnarsson Furniture Painter, and worship as a deity the visage of Robert Redford, whom they can see through Agnarsson’s eye sockets whenever he watches one of Redford’s movies (which, apparently, is all the time.)

If you suspend disbelief and simply go with the flow, “Revolution In The Elbow” proves an entertaining (if sometimes befuddling) mishmash of predictable plot twists, imaginative set pieces, flashy choreography, and groan-worthy jokes, all set to the Jonsson’s melodic and often operatic prog-rock score, with lyrics that sound as if they might have been passed through GoogleTranslate from the original Icelandic.

Marrick Smith stars as Peter, a well-meaning resident of Elbowville who invents a Prosperity Machine. He’s soon manipulated by the evil Mayor Manuela (played with scenery-chewing brio by Tony-winning actress and frequent Iron Chef judge Cady Huffman) to print endless reams of worthless promissory notes, backed only by the community’s meager income of lobster fishing (from Ragnar Agnarsson’s lymphatic nodes.) Suddenly, everyone in Elbowville is prosperous and happy… until the bubble bursts.
Predictably, Elbowville’s credit rating goes to hell, but not before Peter gets caught up in a love triangle with his brother Alex (Graydon Long.) It all ends in tragedy, economic collapse, and political reform… sort of, since the forces of greed and capitalism wind up triumphant even though the play ends with a revolutionary tableau straight out of “Les Miz.”

Smith – who, with his chiseled good lucks and powerfully emotive features, should be getting a call from Hollywood for the next Marvel superhero movie any minute – steals the show with stunning tenor vocals that fly into rapturous falsetto whenever the action ratchets up. Huffman, portraying Manuela as a cross between “Evita,” Bjork, and Ming The Merciless, needs more stage time to justify her presence in this crazy enterprise. Zac Cossman as Mr. Elbowvillain – who comes from neighboring Mount Breast to audit Elbowville’s books – gets to shine in a big, campy hard rock number straight out of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” and Patrick Boll as Manuela’s political henchman adds a welcome touch of maturity to the mostly twenty-something cast.

“Elbow” shines in its individual pieces – there’s a clever shadow play bit, some enthusiastic tap dancing, a few moving romantic ballads – but the play never really holds together as a whole. With the exception of Huffman’s Manuela, the women’s roles seem underwritten and underplayed, and Brad Nacht as Peter and Alex’s lumpy, ineffectual brother Stein can be bothersome. The clever if minimalist set design and background projections by Peter Hlousek impress, as does Lee Proud’s choreography, and the Revolution Cellular Orchestra – a synth and guitar-driven rock band that plays onstage during the action – kicks ass.

Go for the singing, go for the spectacle, go to get your mind blown; the play continues to run at the Minetta Lane Theater in Greenwich Village into the Fall. Just don’t expect to leave understanding what you just saw or humming any of the tunes. “Revolution In The Elbow of Ragnar Agnarsson House Painter” is as baffling and difficult to suss as its title is to remember.

THOSE MOCKINGBIRDS - Penny The Dreadful (thosemockingbirds.com)

Every media outlet in New Jersey has already proclaimed Penny The Dreadful as the jam of the summer and potentially the album of the year, and I have little to add to that assessment except to note that I've been rooting for Adam Bird ever since I saw a very young band called Perfuma perform a terrific song called "Bellville" back sometime in the mid-Aughts.

Like so many promising young bands, Perfuma flashed and burned fairly quickly, so frontman Adam Bird has taken his time with this group. Those Mockingbirds picked up where Perfuma left off, building on Bird's earwig choruses and trenchant lyrics and slowly adding pieces (like Tory Daine's gypsy violin and powerful vocals) and releasing teaser EP's, all the while establishing itself as a live powerhouse everywhere from DIY all-ages spaces to the area's best clubs.

When a band with the profile of Those Mockingbirds finally releases its first full length after five years of touring and career-building, you expect nothing but "A" material and the 'birds more than deliver here; there's not a wanting melody, wayword vocal, or weak hook to be found on these ten sterling tracks.

An acoustic intro and daunting lyric beguile at the beginning of "A Ballad From Hell," leading into a gorgeous violin part and a melody that builds to a thunderous crescenco and then recedes with the power of the tides. The rockers like "How To Rob A Bank," "Teenage Fantasies," and "Loose Leather" manage to be both exciting and radio ready, almost as if the band were challenging the mainstream to choke down these tracks, fusing elements of classic rock riffage and prog harmonies. The pizzicato violin and folk-rock vibe of "S.A.L.T." add yet another dimension to the band's arsenal as does the acoustic arrangement of album closer "I Feel Like I Died," which showcases the softer side of Bird's voice.

This is what a rock'n'roll album should sound like in 2014.

WREATHS - Wreaths (Killing Horse Records)

Shaun Towey (Falling Trees) and Ralph Nicastro (Sparks Fly From A Kiss, Aviso' Hara) anchor this Asbury Park combo, but it's the deadly rhythm section of Kevin Beeg on bass and drummer Colin Carhart who provide its pulse. Wreaths combines the drone of the Velvet Underground with the thick sludgy guitars of British shoegaze and the Jesus & Mary Chain, and it's a potent, mind-altering combination. "Going Back To Hait" infuses an endless two-chord riff with scifi effects, swirling guitars, and ethereal vocals for a 12-minute psychedelic excusion. Wreaths can be short and punchy ("Ruby") or glide on motorik rhythms ("Piedmont Aire,") whispery and ghostlike ("Adult Life,") or dreamlike and confusing ("The Designing Women of Asbury Park." It's all about the juxtaposition of rhythms and textures, and a bold indifference to traditional song structures and song lengths. You will wonder how time slipped away so quickly while lost in the depth of these hypnotic constructions.

DEENA -Rock River (Life Force Records)

Deena is, of course, Deena Shoskes of the Cucumbers, and fear not, hubby Jon Fried is here too, singing harmonies and adding guitars. If you're a Cucumbers fan, then you already know Deena is a beam of sunshine on a rainy day, an endless source of childlike enthusiasm and delight even when she's assaying the blues or lamenting a broken heart. If you're not already a fan, then by all means you owe it to yourself to bring a little Deena into your life. The album boasts bright trebley production from Rob Friedman (who adds touches of pedal steel and glockenspiel,) , with nods to blues, jazz, and country. "My Friend Superman" stands out with its witty take on the Man of Steel's human foibles, while the upbeat "Heart Full Of Now" will warm the craggiest disposition. It should be noted that Deena and Jon have been dear friends of mine for 30 years; one listen to Rock River and you'll understand why I fell in love with this voice so long ago, and rejoice whenever I get a chance to hear it again.

THE HARMONICA LEWINSKIES -
Dad Rock (theharmonicalewinskies.bandcamp.com)

When you fall in love with a local band, a couple of things can happen. The band can reach a plateau - even a pretty good one - and stall out, never really improving until, inevitably, the whole things falls apart. Or the band can feel pressure to "grow" in order to reach broader audiences and make inroads into a real career, and lose all the quirky little details that made you fall in love with them in the first place. And then, every once in a while, a group of individuals will be able to embrace what makes them unique and take it to the next level. And that, in short, happens with the Harmonica Lewinskies' first real full-length, Dad Rock.

I'm hesitant to say the Lewinskies have grown up; a large part of the appeal comes from their laddish irreverence, enthusiam, and sweaty, anarchic live shows. But Dad Rock (forgive the title, as silly as the band's name) does evidence a considerable amount of progression. Just the patience it took to wait until they had a 13-song full-length album (instead of rushing out another 7-song maxi-EP) indicates a newfound maturity.

First, it's the horns. They've come and gone before, with changing personnel. Sometimes the horns would show up for a gig, sometimes they wouldn't. Some songs benefitted hugely from sax, trumpet, and trombone; others either eschewed them completely or they felt forced. On Dad Rock, the horns have become completely integrated into the persona of the Harmonica Lewinskies, as integral to the group's sound and identity as Dan McLane's goofy smile, Will Simpson's sexy profile, Robert Bettega's soulful roots in Brazilian jazz and bossa nova, Oliver Fetter's much improved drumming, and Zebedee Row's undulating bass. Chris Lucca on trumpet, Marco Sanchez on trombone, and Jake Warren on sax make the Harmonica Lewinskies much more than just another Brooklyn guitar band.

On much of Dad Rock, the Lewinskies still play to their strengths, from the salacious horn-driven groove of Simpson's "Put Your Mouth On Me" and "Feelin' Boozy," to the nostalgic reverie of Bettega's "Do You Believe" and the sensual bossa nova vibe of "Americana," to the party-till-you-puke cover of Chris Kenner's "Land Of 1,000 Dances," popularized as a frat-party perennial by Wilson Pickett.

But the Harmonica Lewinskies' introduce a few new wrinkles on Dad Rock that we've never heard before. Two instrumentals showcase the band's abundant chops, one a brassy Big Band swing tune, the other Jobim-ish jazz. "Americana" begins as one of Bettega's Brazilian-flavored lounge songs but ends with a coda (featuring producer Oliver Ignatius on vocals) that gives a nod to Ignatius' band Ghostpal's psychedelic palette. But the real showstopper comes with "The Hunt," a moody ballad quite unlike anything else in the Lewinskies' repertoire, sung by bassist Zebedee Row. It's the sort of suave, silky R&B with a seductive call-and-response chorus that's all the rage on the radio these days, and proof that these guys can just do just about anything they set their minds to.

DEATH OF SAMANTHA - If Memory Serves Us Well (deathofsamantha.com)

SPEED THE PLOUGH - The Plough & The Stars (Bar None)

ODETTA HARTMAN - "Bark"EP (odettahartman.bandcamp.com)

THE HARROW - The Harrow (functionoperate.bandcamp.com/ album/the-harrow)

Inspired by the late Seventies style called Cold Wave (think Siouxie & The Banshees,) Brooklyn's The Harrow combines processed guitars and electronics to create gloomy, churning soundscapes showcasing ethereal female vocals. If you remember the late Nineties New Brunswick band Prosolar Mechanics, it's easy to imagine them evolving into this sort of sound - futuristic and yet grounded in post-punk. This is dance music for the way people who dressed in black used to dance at NYC clubs - slow, sensuous, and intense.

RADIUS 4 EP (The Beat/The Maxies) (www.radiusrecs.com)

WAKING LIGHTS – “Week Nights” EP (wakinglights.bandcamp.com)

THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL - : ( (The Frown Album) (thegreatamericannovel.bandcamp.com)

CAROLE MONTGOMERY – Because I Said So (cdbaby.com/carolemontgomery)

MODERN HUT – Generic Treasure (Don Giovanni Records)

Modern Hut is the solo project of Don Giovanni Records’ honcho Joe Steinhardt, and it’s pretty much just him, his sad sack vocals and strummed acoustic guitar, and some electric guitar noodling from Screaming Females’ Marissa Paternoster (who produced.) This review comes with an advisory: Joe and I are good friends, and I’ve heard him perform embryonic versions of these Modern Hut songs for years, so I’m not the most objective observer. But I have to say I found this album endearing in its honesy, its immediacy, and it’s complete lack of pretension. The sound’s a little bit better than, say, Conor Oberst’s pubescent bedroom recordings or early Sebadoh, but the arrangements couldn’t be any simpler or more stripped down. There are no intros or outros, no solos, and not even much of an attempt at “singing.” It’s just Joe laying out his soul, often depressed and alone but so deadpan in his delivery that he often verges on being funny. (Sample verse: “ If I could be more aggressive/less obsessive, a little more possesive/maybe things would move along/can someone out there in America tell me what’s wrong?”) It’s hard not to notice that Steinhardt’s picked up some intonation from Jeffrey Lewis, and the fact that both write in archly-written rhyming couplets just makes the similarities more obvious. But whereas Lewis is almost always telling you a story in his songs, Steinhardt’s just letting you know how he feels. Sometimes, that’s enough.

DRUM & A TANTRUM – “The End” (drumandatantrum.bandcamp.com)

SINK TAPES – How You Mean (Mint 400 Records)

Sink Tapes list New Brunswick as their hometown but I think of them more as part of the ever-shifting and always surprising scene at the Brighton Bar, that overlooked gem of a venue where you’re liable to find anything from venerable 80’s pop stars on the comeback trail to teenaged hardcore bands making their first foray out of the basement. Sink Tapes needs a fan base that supports eclecticism since the band’s sound is so all over the place, with elements of psychedelia and shoegaze interspersed with Nineties alternarock, Pavement-y slacker-pop, and Yo La Tengo-like whispery ballads. These guys have also been prolific, releasing two albums and an EP since 2010; but on their third full-length, How You Mean, all these different puzzle pieces seem to be coming together and listeners can finally see the big picture. If you’re into lo-fi, droney, occasionally propulsive (“Paper Crown”) and sometimes Beatlesque (“Little League World Series”) psyche-rock with echoes of the Beatles, Feelies, and Ride and occasional forays into semi-acoustic mope-rock, then this is the band for you.

TWO STRIKE MARK (twostrikemark.bandcamp.com)

At first listen, it’s easy enough to write off this Asbury Park acoustic quartet as a familiar amalgamation of Jawbreaker vocals and Blink-182 pop-punk tropes, but then you get to a song like “Red And Gold” or “Pigeon Hole Principle,” with their Front Bottoms-esque lyrics (never said that before!) and earworm melodies (augmented by nifty one finger’d synthesizer riffs) and you realize these guys are pretty damn likable. Personally I’d skip the more emo tracks (“Good Times, Great Times, Florida”) but there’s a lot here I’ll listen to again, whether the band’s being lighthearted (“Spike Dudley”) or so damn earnest you can feel it (“Sex Positions,” “Watch Me Ollie.”) Dear Scott Stamper, here’s a band for the Asbury Music Awards lineup this year.

QUINCY MUMFORD & THE REASON WHY – It’s Only Change (quincymumford.com)

It seems like only yesterday that I saw Quincy Mumford perform for the first time, a gangly teenager in board shorts, tank top, and sandals with an acoustic guitar. A friend leaned over to me and said, “he looks like the kind of kid who goes to the beach by himself a lot.” And he did. Five years later, at the ripe old age of 21, Mumford fronts one of Asbury Park’s most respected funk and jam ensembles, and his latest album, It’s Only Change,” shows just how well this talented young artist has integrated his influences and created a musical identity for himself that has nothing to do with sand, surf, or skateboards.
As evidenced immediately on the album’s opening track, “Change,” you can hear that Mumford’s at best a very laid-back singer; he’s not going to wow you with fancy runs. He lets his band do the heavy lifting, and they’re more than up to the job, from Karlee Bloomfield’s lush organ fills to Brian Gearty’s melodic bass. Mumford’s reedy voice reminds me a bit of Paul Simon (listed to “A Hard Place,” especially,) powerful enough to carry a melody on a big hook but more concerned with communicating emotion in a emotive whisper. The gospel backing vocals that open “For You” showcase this album’s no-holds-barred production, although the song almost immediatley slips into a sultry reggae groove, but I wish the choral vocals had come back at the end of the song; as is, they seem almost gratuitous, a “look what we can do moment” that doesn’t really work in the service of the song.

“Under The Covers” introduces a horn section for a funky soul workout that lets Quincy showcase some of his most nimble singing, followed by the romantic ballad “When You Get Back,” highlighted by a lovely guitar solo. When not relying on reggae or funk for rhythms, Mumford & Co. fall into a pleasingly melodic, jazzy jamband groove in mid-album, finishing up with the reggae/wah-wah funk fusion of “Baby Don’t Go.” Anyone who knows me can tell you that I’d volunteer for a triple root canal before listening to a John Mayer album, but Quincy Mumford & The Reason Why’s musicianship and melodies (as well as self-control) somehow make jamband music safe for indie rockers.

THE JEFFREY LEWIS & PETER STAMPFEL BAND – “Hey Hey It’s…” (jeffreylewis.bandcamp.com)

The second collaboration between anti-folk hero Jeffrey Lewis and acid-folk pioneer Peter Stampfel bring two generations of folkie weirdness together in a fun-filled, slapdash, utterly lovable collection of goofy originals and inspired covers. Even better than 2011’s Come On Board (billed as Peter Stampfel and Jeffrey Lewis,) Hey Hey It’s… lets two generations of freaky Lower East Side folkies shine, accompanied by plunky banjos, screeching fiddles, twitchy mandolins, and a couple of energetic girl singers. This is the best band Stampfel has had since the heyday of the Bottlecaps back in the Eighties, and some of the best songs Lewis has written since 2009’s Em Are I, and together they’re just terrific. From Stampfel’s celebratory folkie freakouts like “More Fun Than Anyone,” “Hey Hey,” and “Duke Of The Beatniks,” to Lewis’ caustic pop culture critiques like “Do You Know Who I Am? I’m Fucking Snooki!” and “Indie Bands On Tour,” all of these tracks find the duo harmonizing (sort of,) with Lewis’ nasal monotone and Stampfel’s creaky crackly mischievous yelp combining in glorious chaotic abandon. They supply new lyrics to the Russian standard “Moscow Nights” (inspired by the late Tuli Kupferberg) and turn “Mule Train” into an eight-minute psychedelic fuzzbox freakout, but the album reaches its apotheosis on the fiddle-driven fuck-you anthem “Crazy Creek (That’s Where We’re Sending You,)” in which Lewis’ dry-as-dirt wit meets the Holy Modal Rounders’ classic “Random Canyon.” If you can’t remember the last time you used the word “wacky” as a point of honor, you need to hear this record.

THE FRONT BOTTOMS – Talon Of The Hawk (Bar/None)

The one drawback to making a successful first album is that you inevitably have to make a second one. Not that the Front Bottoms’ self-titled debut lit up the Billboard charts, but the album’s quirky, deeply personal folk/punk songs resonated with its predominantly adolescent audience deeply enough to let guitarist/singer Brian Sella and drummer Matt Uychich leave their day jobs behind and tour non-stop for the last year and half. Now these Jersey boys are back with a dozen new songs and two new members, multi-instrumentalist Cieran O’Donnel on trumpet, keyboards, guitar, and percussion, and Tom Warren on bass and backing vocals.

The first album swathed Sella’s strummed acoustic and Uychich’s pounding punk rock drums with backing tracks, trumpet, and bass as well, but often these had to be recreated on tour with a laptop, locking the band into playing to a click track. With the new lineup, all that’s gone; Talon Of The Hawk was recorded live in the studio, and it definitely has a freer, more organic vibe than its predecessor, fuller at times and yet equally as intimate in its quiet moments. The big question, however, will be whether Sella has managed to write another batch of songs that will inspire the same passionate singalongs as the first. As someone who’s lived on the road for nearly two years, it makes sense that Sella would start the album with a song that says goodbye. Loneliness, regrets, and goodbyes recur as themes throughout the album. “I walked around like a skeleton last night, confused and alone,” Sella cries in “Skeleton.” “Who was I kidding, I can’t get past you, you are the cops, you are my student loans.”

But all that misery inevitably leads to the big chorus and you can just picture a room full of screaming kids singing along to the hook, “And I got soooooo stoned…” The downbeat “Twin Size Mattress” conveys both the camaraderie of tour life but also the pain of leaving someone behind, especially when it’s someone who may need you there. In “Santa Monica,” 3,000 miles from home, Sella dreams of just laying on the beach with his girlfriend drinking Tecates, while admitting that he’s “an emotional baby boy, emotional man, I am emotional.” “I want to be stronger than your dad was for your mom,” he bleats, knowing full well that as long as he’s on the road, it’s never going to happen. And things get only more dire from there: On the tortured“Tattooed Tears,” a lovesick Sella admits “this love will never be convenient;” the protagonist of “Lone Star” finds himself with a pregnant girlfriend, wondering if the pittance left in his bank account will be enough to make the problem go away. There’s a little light at the end of the tunnel in “Back Flip,” in which Sella copes with anxiety attacks over his choice of lifestyle while admitting, “there are answers here, they’re just harder to find,” all set to the borrowed chord changes from “La Bamba.”

“This is not the way I plan on living for the rest of my life,” Sella proclaims in the album ending “Everything I Own,” “but for right now it gets me by.” But inside, Sella knows something’s wrong. “God forbid I ever stop feeling sorry for myself for feeling selfish,” he sings. “But for right now, it gets me by.”

On the Front Bottoms’ first album, Brian Sella was the wacky kid who had maps on his walls and big, big plans; he laughed about swatting his dad with a baseball bat and found comfort in the bottom of a swimming pool. On Talon Of The Hawk, all those daydreams have turned sour; now he’s alone on the road and just trying to figure out how to hang on to the next town, where he can get drunk with his friends and maybe get a tattoo he’ll regret for the rest of his life. The kids will still sing along, but they’ll have a lot more to think about now. The stakes have changed. The hawk is adulthood, and its talons are sharp.

ELEVENTH DREAM DAY – New Moodio (Comedy Minus One)

Is it okay if one of my Top 10 albums of 2013 was actually recorded in 1991? Eleventh Dream Day made New Moodio at the height of their powers but the nadir of their professional career, when their deal with Atlantic Records (following the substantial critical and modest commercial success of Beet) seemed to have disintegrated. Recorded on their own dime with producer Brad Wood, the tracks on New Moodio would later be shelved when Danny Goldberg wooed the band back to the label; most of these songs were re-recorded, a few appeared on compilations or singles, and several have never been heard before. Until now.

The re-recorded tracks do sound looser and a bit funkier than their major label counterparts, but it’s the overall experience of the album – the new sequencing, the airier production, the insertion of previously unheard gems like “Everywhere Down Here” – that sets New Moodio apart. As always with EDD, there’s the constant churn of Rick Rizzo’s post-Velvets guitar, snarling spoke/sung vocals, and a substantial amount of Neil Young worship, leavened by Janet Bean’s counterpoint vocals, a good bit of Yo La Tengo pop-jangle (the two bands were – and still are – frequent tourmates,) and an occasional blast of brawny Windy City punk. “Everywhere Down Here” riffs like deconstructed Dream Syndicate, “Raft Song” floats on a jangle of Feelies-esque guitars, and the interplay between Rizzo and guitarist Baird Figi’s dueling axes often recalls Television.

“Making Like A Bug” – which flopped as the first single from El Moodio – is the biggest revelation here, with Bean’s quizzical lead vocal detonating a masterpiece of Rizzo guitar skronk. Just a few years later, Chicago would be dominating FM radio with female artists like Liz Phair and Veruca Salt; but when Atlantic released this track, the band was told that “women were not big that month.”

Well, they are now. New Moodio is like a gift plucked from a time capsule or beamed back to Earth from 23 years in the past. It’s what 1991 sounded like to a lot of us, and it still sounds fresh and exciting today.

THE ALL-ABOUT – Suburban Heart (theallabout.bandcamp.com)

DEERHUNTER – Monomania (4AD)

Like a lot of people who listen to way too much new music, I like the idea of Bradford Cox more than this records. Lord knows we need an outspoken weirdo in indie; otherwise, who’s left, Billy Corgan and Wayne Coyne? Despite its benediction as ‘Best New Music’ at Pitchfork, though, Monomania, like most of Deerhunter’s catalog, leaves me wondering what all the fuss is about. This time out, Cox’s often off-key, dirgey meanderings have been filtered through a wall of fuzz box guitar, leaping onto the same bandwagon as the brigade of lo-fi, new-school garageband dirtbags like Black Lips/Mikal Cronin/Ty Segall/Pujol/yadayadayada. Only the yearning, melodic “The Missing” by guitarist Lockett Pundt (who moonlights under the name Lotus Plaza) sounds like it wasn’t tossed off in one take at 4 a.m. The rest of Monomania sounds like frat boys banging out Pavement and Beck covers on acid on a weekend bender.

VAMPIRE WEEKEND – Modern Vampires Of The City (XL)

THE PORCHISTAS - The Porchistas Live (www.theporchistas.com)

A live album makes a lot of sense for Montclair's Porchistas. While they've been one of my favorite NJ folk groups for a while now, their other releases tended to be produced unevenly, and the band's penchant for kooky novelty songs often overshadowed the band's tasteful blend of traditional folk and indie-pop. Recorded by bassist Gerry Griffin mostly at Tierney's Tavern, The Porchistas Live captures the group's abundant charm, elegant harmony vocals, the wit of lead singer Alan Smith's lyrics, and the individual members' accomplished musicianship. Selections range from traditional folk ("Waddlin' Fool," "Tooty Tooty Ta") to clever, catchy indie-pop ("Frankly, You Can Thank Me," the slightly risque "Oh Brother") and yes, there's even one of those wacky novelty tunes ("Zombie Jesus.") Smith spends part of every year working on a sustainable-living commune in Costa Rica and that experience is reflected in the Latin flavored "Los Pescadores de Puntarenas." A cold beer, a warm night, a back porch, and The Porchistas Live... life in Jersey doesn't get any better.

THE DEFENDING CHAMPIONS – Breakfast Of… (thedefendingchampions.com)

The seven skilled musicians in Montclair’s The Defending Champions might seem like a throwback to the mid-Nineties ska/punk revival, when teenaged marching band nerds would take their trombones, trumpets and saxophones and start the coolest bands in the underground. I was a marching band nerd in my day too, so I know the chip it leaves on your shoulder. It ’s no surprise then that the Defending Champions come out ripping and roaring and ready to reduce even the most jaded hipsters into sweat-soaked skanking fools on Breakfast Of…The Defending Champions. Much more than mere ska revivalism, these eight tracks fuse earwig hooks, nimble percussion, syncopated rhythms, and infectious gang vocals into a fusion of ska, reggae, punk and soul. “Lucky Man” marries ska rhythms and tight horns with a catchy Motown chorus; “Step To The Man” and the instrumental “Beatstreet” build from quiet intros into irresistible rocksteady ska, and “Relax A Little” slows things down to a soulful blues with jazzy sax solos before erupting into another dancehall anthem. “Raise The Glass” ends the album with a crazy gypsy wedding twist somewhere between Gogol Bordello and World/Inferno Friendship Society. This isn’t the jokey ska/punk of Less Than Jake or Reel Big Fish, but exciting, original, danceable music that draws from a variety of traditions and styles to form something unique.

GHOST PAL – “God Bless MCFK” (ghostpal.bandcamp.com)

Following an impressive psyche/gospel/funk full-length about an actual ghost (2012’s Nathan Jones Is Dead,) Brooklyn’s Ghost Pal retrenches a bit on this new EP, going back to what they do best: Acoustic psychedelic pop that conjures the spirit of classic rock icons like the Beatles, Who, and Beach Boys. But being Ghost Pal, they continue to innovate as well, adding new elements like pennywhistle and glockenspiel to a mix that includes Oliver Ignatius’s enraptured vocals, Alex da Silva’s post-rock guitar, Henry Kandel’s evocative sax parts, and the precise percussion of drummers Carson Moody and Matt Evans. After a one-minute overture that introduces Oliver’s vocals and a bit of da Silva guitar noise, the EP begins with the seductive “Sleep/Whatever,” a weary lament built over acoustic guitar and glockenspiel that slowly crescendos into a symphony of psychedelic pop, with Syd Barrett-worthy lyrics that warn of the perils of sleeping your life away: “I looked into the mirror that was passing me by/I saw that it was breaking and I wanted to cry… and now it’s dark and I’m asleep/while everybody out there has fun/ I wish, I wish, I really really wish/ I really really wish I’d had some.”

Just in case you’ve been ignoring everything on this blog for the last year and a half, the MCFK in the EP’s title refers to Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen, Ignatius’ studio which has become the nexus of a young, spirited and insanely talented DIY community that includes Ghost Pal. On “God Save Mama Coco’s,” Ignatius returns to the themes of sleep and wasted opportunities: “Three o’clock in the morning, though I’ve spent hours yawning, I can’t fade into the night.” Beset by doubts and physical as well as emotional travail, he knows that ultimately, the music will be worth the sacrifice: “When money's tight, we'll have music/just to keep us in holy flame / When we can't talk, we'll be laughing/at the fact that nobody came.” As with so much of Ghost Pal, “God Bless Mama Coco’s” is a spiritual disguised as a pop song swathed in psychedelia. There’s a touching soulfulness to the vocals, as well as the warm organic tones of pennywhistle floating above murmuring keyboards and fuzz guitar that simply enchant.
Henry Kandel’s multi-tracked saxophones and bold strokes of acoustic guitar launch “Everyone Knows,” which spotlights Oliver’s silky lower register in the early verses before blossoming into a beautifully melodic chorus and a full-on instrumental freakout, with hammering electric piano, sax, and percussion, Rubber Soul colliding headfirst with Olivia Tremor Control in the 21st Century.

Inspired by the passing of Oliver’s beloved family dog, “Raja’s Song (Hold On My King)” melds lush Beach Boy vocal harmonies with a passionate, melodic vocal that sees the boy say goodbye to his best friend and face the prospect of becoming a man alone. It’s a track worthy of Pet Sounds, both heartbreaking and strangely, powerfully uplifting, as any song about love will be. Oliver mourns not just the loss of his pet, but the regret and guilt we all feel when someone we love leaves us. It’s a beautiful reiteration of a theme that flows throughout this EP: Seize every moment and treasure it, because none of us know how long anything will last.

WYLDLIFE – The Time Has Come To Rock N Roll (wyldlife.bandcamp.com)

This punky four piece came together at Bard, and makes happy, jangly pop music. Singer/guitarist Gabe Adels has a boyishly winsome voice that’s impossible to dislike, whether the band is channeling Superchunk (“I Don’t Mind,”) borrowing a Bo Diddley beat on “Plane Crash,” or experimenting with different guitar tones on the Vampire Weekend-ish “Every Night.” I have no idea what kind of grades these guys get, but they obviously spend an awful lot of time on this band when they should be studying: You can hear it in the inventive arrangement of the multi-part “Melatonin,” with its dream-pop chorus; or the complex dual-guitar intro to “Alright” (which suggests they’ve listen to Marquee Moon more than a few times,) or the nimble wordplay of “Sometimes.” Once school’s out, I hope Wave Envy starts playing out in the city. These songs are way too good to keep sequestered out in Annondale-On-Hudson. (Thanks to Miles from Dr. Skinnybones for bringing this album to my attention.)

LITTLE WAIST – Econo Body Demos (littlewaist.bandcamp.com)

THE BLACK MARKET MERCHANTS – “Black Market” EP (blackmarketmerchants.bandcamp.com)

SICK SICK BIRDS – Gates Of Home (Killing Horse Records)

I remember watching Doc Hopper years ago and my friend Alex Saville turned to me and said, “you know what’s great with these old punk bands? It’s all there. They know how to write a song, they know how to play their instruments, and they know how to get the most out of every piece of equipment they own.” That thought occurred to me listening to Gates Of Home by the veteran Baltimore group Sick Sick Birds, released by Toxic Pop Records last year and recently re-released by NJ’s Killing Horse Records. Of course I’m using the term “old” relatively here; frontman and primary songwriter Mike Hall is a veteran of the late 90’s/millennial B’more punk scene – not the 70’s or 80’s - having played in that town’s The Thumbs, and he’s managed to stay active after other bandmates and contemporaries have faded away into the thirtysomething malaise of mortgage payments, family, and day jobs. And quite frankly, he and the SSB’s have never sounded better. Another thing about these “old” punk bands is that they know rock ‘n’ roll wasn’t invented by Blink 182 in 2005; you can hear echoes here of everything from the Pixies and Husker Du to Mission of Burma and the Smiths. Not that the Birds are in anyway derivative; in fact, the way they straddle that fine line of demarcation between punk and indie give them a unique spin. But like all great pop music, “Gates of Home” manages to sound simultaneously familiar and new. Hall’s youthful but seasoned vocals can communicate sadness without sounding whiny (like most of what gets labeled “pop punk” these days,) but whereas songs like “Conversation” and “One Town Over” carry overtones of remorse and regret, Hall can also be as giddy and boyish as Superchunk’s Mac Macaughan on songs like “Marietta” and “Pick And Choose.” Like J Robbins in Jawbox, Mike Hall – with his voice, his guitar, and with Melissa Jacobsen’s engaged backing vocals – can invoke a range of deep and often dark emotions without resorting to the theatrical excesses of emo. This is a record I’m going to want to hear again, and again. Thanks to Killing Horse for making it more widely available.

THE HARMONICA LEWINSKIES -
"Salad Days" EP (theharmonicalewinskies.bandcamp.com)

After their well-received 2012 full-length Octopus Wallstreet, it would have been easy for the Harmonica Lewinskies to return to Mama Coco's Funky Kitchen studio and follow up with an EP that simply reiterated all the things they did so well on the album. And the first track here, "The Ghost Pal Song," does exactly that: It's a near-perfect three-minute pop song blending funky horns, a smooth cosmopolitan vocal from Roberto Bettega (one of the band's several frontmen,) a bridge that sounds lifted from an old Stax/Volt 45, a sexy sax solo, a shout-out to Porgy & Bess, and that impish Lewinskie sense of humor. (The title is a homage to the flagship band of the Mama Coco's Funky Kitchen collective, Ghost Pal.)

"Funky Home" changes up the formula a bit, mixing funk, r&b, jazz, and even a little hop-hop in a sassy, flirtatious call-and-response duet between bassist Zebedee Row and guest singer Emily Mattheson, with some especially nice Booker T. organ from Devin Calderin. The whole ensemble cooks on this cut, but besides the clever, seductive lyrics, "Funky Home" stands out foremost for Row's throbbing nibble funky bass lines. Octopus Wallstreet lost the bass in the mix; that sin is atoned for her in spades.

But if you think you know what's coming next, guess again. The band dives headfirst into Americana, with a charming, off-the-cuff variation on "Red River Valley" that they call "Harlem River Valley." The track shows off Jake's chops on the uke and harmonica, as well as the band's effortless vocal harmonies. It reminds me of the first time I met these guys, at a barbecue at Mama Coco's Funky Kitchen, where producer Oliver Ignatius produced these tracks. In between bands playing in the basement studio, Jake pulled out his uke and the Lewinskies started freestyling campfire harmonies on old rock tunes. I had just met them at the time but I left thinking two things: This band is really talented, and these are people I want for friends.

And even though they ripped off the title of this EP from Minor Threat (really, guys?), that opinion hasn't changed.

SCIENCE POLICE - You Are Under Arrest In The Future (sciencepolice.bandcamp.com)

BIG DICK (big-dick.bandcamp.com)

ROLAND RAMOS – Anchor Heart

If you’re involved in any way with the art or music scene in Jersey City and Hoboken, you’re run across Roland Ramos, a big bear of man with a wild mop of curly hair and the fearsome countenance of a Samoan bouncer. Throughout 2012, it seemed like Roland was either organizing an open mic or curating an art installation every weekend, as well as being a regular presence at Northern Soul, Maxwell’s, Jersey City’s Lamp Post, and other venues.

You might be surprised, though, to learn that the intimidating Mr. Ramos counts the ephemeral, poetic folk of Joni Mitchell as one of his biggest musical influences. But that influence – as well as the heady, soulful rhythms of Jamaica and the romantic Latino ballads of Mexico – can be heard throughout Ramos’ latest album, “Anchor Heart.” From the funky reggae of “China Doll” to the tender Latino ballad “Tequila Kisses” to the humorous, folkie “Wasted Again,” Ramos pours soul, heart, wit, and conviction into every song he sings. “Art School Girl” will inspire a smile, “Simple Hands” will propel you to the dancefloor; “Lighter” showcases Ramos’ mastery of classical guitar, while “Turning On The Tide” and “Eliza” could be hits on country radio. Ramos simply knows no boundaries; like his beloved Hoboken, “Anchor Hearts” is a true melting pot of cultures and rhythms.

GOODMAN – What We Want (goodmanmusic.bandcamp.com)

“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It is a very bad definition, but it does apply to detective work.” And, might we add, pop music. Rock ‘n’ roll can certainly be shambolic and unkempt, sweaty and greasy and unrehearsed. But there’s the other extreme too; think Brian Wilson, Jeff Mangum, Todd Rundgren, Harry Nilsson… geniuses all but of the tucked-in, button-down, every-note-just-so variety. That’s where you’ll find Michael Goodman, who records under his last name, and whose capacity to take infinite pains marks his first full-length “What We Want” as a potential work of genius. We won’t know that for sure until many years from now, of course, but it’s impossible not to be impressed with his idiosyncratic reinvention of Sixties pop.

Every song here has a vocal hook, a harmony, or a guitar tone that distinguishes it from the rest. Kudos go to Zac Coe’s precise drumming, for while this is recognizably rock ‘n’ roll music, I don’t think there’s a single track that relies on a steady 4/4 beat. Everything’s nimbly syncopated, beats falling where you don’t expect them, and that’s a huge part of the album’s appeal. Finally, there’s the songwriting, which hews to themes you’d certainly expect from a barely-twentysomething – loneliness, sleeplessness, the pitfalls of romance.

There’s not only a meticulousness to Goodman’s rhyme schemes and meter – you could easily publish any of these lyrics as a poem – but an unexpected layer of self-loathing that’s part of that excruciating process of growing out of boyhood and into an adult. Goodman sings with such precise diction that it almost seems an affectation, but there’s not a line delivered here that comes across as overtly twee or ironic. There’s palpable pain and longing when he sings “I’m waiting, come faster” in the lovelorn “Waiting;” he actually sounds heartsick on the mooning “Fever” (which borrows a melody line from the ultimate bubblegum classic, “Sugar Sugar,”) and the full-of-regret “Flowers” paints an indelible word-picture. Need a generational anthem for today’s generation, dead-ended by the economy, ambitions crippled by lowered expectations? Look no farther than the title track, “What We Want.”

“Won’t” – with its festive handclaps and unexpected optimism – is what I’ll be playing at the stroke of twelve on New Year’s Eve. Recorded at Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen with Oliver Ignatius at the board (and helping with some backup instrumentation and vocals,) “What We Want” points the way to where intelligent, hooky pop music should be heading. This is a guarantee: It will tickle your brain, touch your heart, and brighten your day.

BIG DIPPER - Crashes On The Platinum Planet (Almost Ready)

Big Dipper experienced an all-too-familiar career arc in the Eighties, from college-rock superstars to major label casualties. A 2008 reunion and a 3-disc anthology of the band's material sparked new interest in both the public and the band members, and here we have the first new Big Dipper album since 1990. The band's talent for witty and tuneful pop-rock hasn't diminished with age, as evidenced by hooky, clever tracks like "Lord Scrumptious," a paean to "Robert Pollard," the riff-happy "Pitbull Cruiser, Blue," and the timely "Hurricane Bill." Gary Waleik and Bill Goffrier still pack one of the best one-two singer/songwriter punches in indiedom (think Mould/Hart or Holsapple/Stamey,) with harmony vocals on those big catchy choruses accentuating each songwriter's individual quirks. And there really hasn't been a "let's get the band back together" rocker as fun as "Guitar Named Desire: The Animated Sequel" in this year of wall-to-wall Eighties-band reunions. Highly recommended for old fans and new.

AMY RIGBY AND WRECKLESS ERIC - A Working Museum (Southern Domestic)

CROPDUSTER – Cropduster / Drunk Uncle (Mint400Records.com)

Unlike many of the bands I loved back in the late Nineties and early 00’s but rarely listen to anymore, Cropduster holds up surprisingly well. The cowpunk quartet from Hackensack (and later New Brunswick) never fit into a box, neither ahead of their time, nor retro, nor slaves to contemporary tastes. Rather, the group’s blend of cracked country, turnpike snark, mumbled nonsense, and vintage riffs seemed outside of whatever else might have been going on around them. So I was delighted to hear that Mint 400 Records (home of Jersey stalwarts Fairmont, the One & Nines, and Les Trois Chaud, among others) would be digitally re-releasing the band’s 1998 self-titled DIY debut and its 2001 follow-up, Drunk Uncle, originally released on the short-lived in-house label at the Music Syndicate.

After playing bass in several failed local acts, Marc Maurizi nearly chopped his thumb off in an industrial accident. While recuperating, he decided to teach himself guitar, learn how to write songs, and step in front of the mic as frontman in his next band. Cropduster (by Cropduster) displays the fruits of those endeavors, with eight catchy numbers that showcase Maurizi’s sarcastic wit, ably abetted by Tom Gerke’s nimble lead guitar and exquisite harmony vocals. “Trevor Trailer Trash,” “Point The Finger,” “Never,” and “Animal Crackers” would become staples of the band’s live show, with a disarming earnestness and Maurizi’s almost sing/song delivery slyly masking the group’s potent pop chops.

Three years later, the band recorded Drunk Uncle for The Music Syndicate, a Weehawken promotions company that specialized in getting indie bands played on college radio. The bigger production budget, plus Maurizi’s considerable growth as both a singer and songwriter, resulted in one of the best homegrown Jersey albums ever, with nine near-perfect, clever, catchy tracks. The band still toyed with country tropes and simple major chord melodies, but on songs like “Lower East Side Blues” and “Mind Rock,” Cropduster proved it could get a room full of twentysomethings dancing as well. The deal with the Syndicate, while short-lived, did let the band tour quite a bit and play larger venues, although I will always remember Cropduster at those infamous house-shows the band threw at its punkhouse in Hackensack, or playing with the tightly-knit New Brunswick scene bands of the era at small clubs like Maxwell’s and the Court Tavern. Marriages and babies and jobs and life put Cropduster on hold for a while, but I hear they’ll be playing out again, and next year Mint 400 promises to release a new CD of unreleased tracks and rarities, which will almost certainly wind up being one of my top albums of the year. For now, I heartily recommend you dig into two of my favorite records from 1998 and 2001.

THE MICKS – The Micks (www.themicks.tv)

Jersey City’s Micks (there are a couple of bands with that moniker) love to stretch out. The short songs on this mostly-acoustic band’s 6-song debut album clock in at nearly five minutes; two of them push the 7-minute mark. But that doesn’t mean these guys like to jam; you’ll find very few solos here, mostly just breezy vocal melodies that the band loves to let linger until they’ve worked their way out of their system. Brothers Matt and Sam McMickle, on guitar and drums respectively, started performing together as the McMickle Brothers but really came into their own with the addition of bassist Hank Prol a few years ago, when they formally became The Micks. On the album, they’re augmented with a host of top-notch Jersey musicians and what seems like a small choir of backup singers, which allows the band to stretch a simple little acoustic tune like the opening “The Dry Splash” into an extended thigh-slapping, gospel-infused harmonica-drenched folkie freakout. “Cry Every Time” boasts one of Matt’s most indelible singalong hooks, as well as a subtle jazzy groove that crescendos beautifully into a triumphant singalong choral finale. “Useless” steps outside the Micks’ usual freak folk box and starts with a slinky melody that suggests an acoustic Nirvana outtake, including that patented quiet verse/loud chorus dynamic (which relies heavily on Matt McMickle’s exquisite falsetto, a weapon he wields frequently to good effect throughout the album.) “Different Walls” gets a bit heavier and almost delves into power ballad territory, not my favorite Micks neighborhood. But it’s quickly redeemed by the gossamer “Dancing For The Smokers,” with its delicate, formal, almost prog-rock opening and romantic, waltz-tempo crescendo. “Finish Me,” a longtime staple of the band’s live set, ends the album on a soaring note, delightfully rocking and melodic with one of Matt’s sweetest vocals. The Micks bring a thoroughly modern and refreshing touch to simple, catchy folk melodies, providing a collection of songs I guarantee you’ll enjoy.

PEACHCAKE – Unbelievable Souls (peachcake.net)

TITUS ANDRONICUS - Local Business (XL Recordings)

Less ambitious and overreaching than The Monitor and a bit less slapdash and sloppy than the band's impressive debut, The Airing of Grievances, Local Business finds the pride of Glen Rock with a substantially revamped lineup. Gone are the fiddles, horns, strings, and bagpipes (as well as guest vocalists and readers) who peopled The Monitor; now there are five members of Titus Andronicus, whether on tour or in the studio. Still, this is Patrick Stickles' band, and Titus Andronicus rises and falls with his warbling vocals, peripatetic lyrical musings, and hit-or-miss songwriting chops.

Stickles has proclaimed in the press that Local Business represents his band's return to PUNK ROCK in capital letters, and given the excesses of The Monitor, that certainly makes sense. Short of rewriting Tales of Topographic Oceans or re-staging Quadrophenia, Titus Andronicus' only strategy was - in the words of Steve Martin - to get small, man, real small. And so Titus Andronicus regroups and tries to recapture the transcendent scruffiness of Grievances while still showing some evidence of growth and progression.

Stickles succeeds for the most part, even if Local Business represents nothing so much as a concept album about being a disaffected malcontent. The album starts out with a potent three song wallop, although to suggest that "Ecce Homo," "Still Life With Hot Deuce On Silver Platter," and (deep breath) "Upon Viewing Oregon's Landscape With The Flood of Detritus" in any way resemble punk rock (other than in grungy basement-show spirit) stretches things substantially. Musically, the sound of Titus Andronicus amounts to a pastiche of Springsteen and Billy Joel reinterpreting union marching songs. What largely distinguishes Stickles as a songwriter is his knack for coining repetitive phrases that sum up generational angst, from "here it goes again, I hear you took it to another level" to slogans like "you'll always be a loser" or "the enemy is everywhere" from earlier albums.

Here's the thing though; that strength also proves to be Stickles' biggest weakness. Too often on Local Business, those shout-along, wave your cellphone and chug your PBR phrases seem shoehorned into songs without much substance. And while a couple of short anthemic throwaway tracks made sense as respites on The Monitor (with five tracks clocking in at 7 minutes or more,) they just seem lazy on Local Business. "Food Fight!" consists of those two words shouted against the riff from the Dolls' "Personality Crisis;" "Titus Andronicus Vs. The Absurd Universe (3rd Round KO)" repeats the joke with an old Stooges riff and the chant "I'm going insane!"

And while it was brave for Stickles to chronicle his battle with bulimia on "My Eating Disorder," and the track qualifies as the most punk rock thing on the album, it's also painfully solipsistic even by Stickles' standards. Instead of making some kind of cogent point about body image or modern neuroses or whatever, the song devolves into another repetitive singalong (just imagine a room full of hipsters simultaneously changing "Spit it out." Lovely.)

"In A Big City" purports to tackle Stickle's displacement from a "disturbed, dangerous drifter" (ha!) from New Jersey to "a drop in a deluge of hipsters." Of course, Stickles could have just stayed in the suburbs instead of following the migrating hordes to Bushwick, but when he sings, "some of my dreams are coming true, and some of the smoke from the other room is seeping through," it sounds all too much like overprivileged white-kid whining. Worse, the line about "only beggars call me mister" suggests that living in big city hasn't taught Mr. Stickles much about compassion.

The self-pity rolls on in "In A Small Body:" "Don’t tell me I was born free, that joke has been old since high school,” which connects to the album's opening salvo of nihilism on "Ecce Homo:" ("Okay I think by now we've established that everything is inherently worthless.") It's impossible not to admire a line like, "I never wanted to grow up to be some kind of social construct, imagine me a cog in some kind of infernal machine," and at least Stickles admits, "I know some kids who'd kill for this kind of cage." But even if "In A Small Body" represents one of the strongest songs on the album, it also suggests that its narrator is a guy I probably wouldn't invite home to dinner.

"(I Am The) Electric Man" throws another throwaway joke song into the pot, and the album concludes with the overlong, meandering "Tried To Quit Smoking," which treats us to an extended self-excoriating dirge ("it's not that I meant to hurt you, I just didn't care if I did,") followed by several minutes of meandering boogie guitar (harmonica instead of bagpipes this time.)

I really wanted to like Local Business more than I did. I can certainly appreciate Stickles' predicament, not wanting to grow up and desperately fighting to hold on to an identity that doesn't revolve around consumerism and co-optation. And this may be the grumpiest, get-off-my-lawn sentiment I've ever expressed, but I just wish he (and his generation) would try a little harder.

KURT BAKER - Brand New Beat (kurtbakermusic.com)

After a covers album, a flirtation with white soul, and two well-received EP's, Kurt Baker returns to power-pop basics on Brand New Beat, his first full-length of original material since the breakup of the Leftovers. There are nods here to the early Beatles, the Hollies, Joe Jackson, and the Rubinoos, insanely catchy melodies and hooky singalong choruses and dreamy backup harmonies. The piano-driven "I Don't Wanna Cry" even delves into Neil Sedaka-era Brill Building gossamer-pop gooeyness. Less talented musicians - and let's include Kurt's terrific backup band here - wouldn't be able to pull this stuff off without sounding wincingly twee or treacly but Kurt's inherent likeability and sincerity lets him get away with even the most obvious pop songbook cops, whether he's channeling Tommy Tutone, Joe Jackson, or early Elvis Costello. Recommended!

EASTERN ANCHORS –
Drunken Arts & Pure Science (easternanchors.bandcamp.com)

NO SHOES / BASAL GANG – “Mingling” EP

Recorded at Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen studio in Brooklyn, “Mingling” serves up four songs apiece from two young NYC math/rock bands. I’ll admit, this is not my favorite genre of music, but even non-math heads have to be impressed by the precision and musicianship on display here – weird time signatures, crazy tempo changes, and from No Shoes especially, more tapping than on a Van Halen album. You can just imagine these guys spending their adolescence practicing runs in their bedroom for hours and hours while all the other kids were out playing baseball or getting laid. The drumming from both bands is outstanding too; keeping all that frenetic craziness together has got to be a huge challenged, but neither band ever misses a beat. For listenability, I give the nod to No Shoes here, they’re a little goofier and do a lot of fun things with their gang vocals; Basal Gang’s songs tend to be a little heavier and darker in mood. If you’re into shredding solos, unpredictable explosions of spastic noise-rock, and math-rock complexity, you’ll find a lot to blow your mind on this EP. Each band’s tracks are available separately at basalgang.bandcamp.com and noshoesny.bandcamp.com

WORM QUARTET – Songs Of The Maniacs (wormquartet.com)

A Dr. Demento favorite for decades, Worm Quartet (aka the one-man band known as Shoebox) is back with a Kickstarter-funded collection of hilarious new tunes, sung with his trademark rapid-fire delivery and cheesy synthesizer backing tracks and beats. The man can write a melody though, so even the most inane lyrics frequently come nestled in an earwig riff you’ll wind up humming for days. In the past, Shoebox’s real life travails and triumphs have always been the best fodder for his comedy, and that continues here with “The Ballad of Dr. Stopp,” the hair-rising tale of his vasectomy.

Like a modern-day Lewis Carroll, Worm Quartet delights in nonsense rhymes and the sound of certain words (which recalls an old Mel Brooks routine: “Kumquat is funny. Pickle is funny;”) so you’ll hear “nipples” and other silly signifiers quite a bit; and since it’s nerdcore (or some variation thereof,) a lot of jokes about the Internet. “On The Shoulders Of Freaks” takes a jaundiced look at the great innovators of history (and their, um, various peccadilloes,) while “Vampire Penguins (Re-Penged)” takes the piss out of both vampire penguins and our societal fixation with technological newness (no matter how useless or ridiculous.) There’s also the jazzy “A Worm Quartet Christmas,” which reinterprets Clement Moore through Shoebox’s Jabberwocky filter. All in all, it’s fast, silly, goofy fun, finished up by a whole bunch of mini-tracks in which Worm Quartet thanks all of his Kickstarter supporters.

THE EVERYMEN – New Jersey Hardcore (Killing Horse Records)

The Everymen may officially hail from Tuckerton, but the hard-working band has become a familiar presence at Hoboken and Jersey City venues (as well as the Jersey shore.) In fact, After several well-received EP’s, New Jersey Hardcore represents the Everymen’s first full-length, but don’t let the title fool you: This isn’t hardcore punk, but an adrenaline-fueled fusion of fuzzed-out garage-rock guitaris, street corner doo wop, Sixties pop, honking sax, and whiskey-soaked vocals. Frontman Michael V. always sounds like he spent the night before partying just a big too hard, a nice contrast to the barroom croon of Catherine Herrick, who takes a sassy lead vocal on “Coney Island High,” the band’s tribute to the onetime St. Mark’s Place punk club. Everyone contributes here, from Jamie Zillitto’s throbbing bass (check out the groovy rock’n’roll intro to “Boss Johnny”) to the crisp economy of drummer Jake Fiedler (an original member of New Brunswick way-ahead-of-their-time Ex Models.) But The Everymen’s real secret weapon is Scott Zillitto (brother of bassist Jamie) on sax, who absolutely wails on bluesy album-closer “Annie,” with a passionate after-midnight solo that recalls the great Clarence Clemons.

You won’t find a band less comfortable with the stereotype of polite, effete Brooklyn indie-rock than the Everymen; but if I was throwing a party, they’d be the first band I’d invite. As greasy as a sausage-and-peppers sub and as sweaty as a New Brunswick basement show, New Jersey Hardcore sums up everything that’s vital, fun, and enduring about Garden State rock ‘n’ roll.

DAVEY & THE TRAINWRECK – Last Stop Hoboken

Longtime Hoboken resident/ folksinger/ environmentalist Dave Calamoneri last graced us with a live EP recorded at New York City’s Sullivan Hall. On this new album, Dave and his excellent backing band (with Jeremy Beck on keyboards, Bill Hamilton on lead guitar, “the Reverend” Jim Dillman on bass, and Tommy Costagliola on drums) present six sterling studio tracks as well as a loose, howling live version of set-favorite “Wolf.”

Calamoneri is a traditionalist – equal parts Hank Williams, Woody Guthrie, and Bob Dylan, with a little Neil Young thrown in for color – and his sturdy voice and simple, straightforward songwriting shine here. “Hopeful Man” is something of a theme song, a statement of purpose and identity, while “Money, It’s Not All About” adds funky wah-wah guitar, the blues delivered with a Motown accent. Dave shows off his harmonica skill on the country-tinged “Sunday,” then revs things up for some honky-tonkin’ fun on the upbeat “I’m Alright.” Lately, Dave’s been working some new political protest songs into his set; here, he sets his sights on government hypocrisy in the stinging “ReUnion.” Dave plays around Hoboken often, at Northern Soul, Maxwell’s, and other venues; and if you don’t catch him on stage, you can always find him at the Downtown Hoboken Farmer’s Market on Tuesdays.
(reverbnation.com/daveyandthetrainwreck)

BRICK MOWER – My Hateable Face (Don Giovanni Records)

New Brunswick trio Brick Mower continue the tradition of Jersey basement punk on their first album for Don Giovanni Records, a gritty collection of non-stop raw-throated power-chord squall that owes equal debt to the cigarettes ‘n’ whiskey weltanschauung of Replacements, the raw-throated throb of Jawbreaker, and the sonic guitars of Superchunk. That’s a fine collection of influences, and it works just fine on standout tracks like “Touchdown Jesus,” “Cheap Gasoline,” and “Black Market Cigarettes;” but the band’s clearly front-loaded its best tracks for the album and all those descending chord changes and monochromatic vocals begin to blur together after a while. I like Brick Mower but I’d like them a lot more if they stepped out of their comfort zone and tried a few songs that changed up the formula a bit.

GHOST PAL – Nathan Jones Is Dead (ghostpal.bandcamp.com)

DR. SKINNYBONES – Bad Education (drskinnybones.bandcamp.com)

THE HARMONICA LEWINSKIES
Octopus Wall Street (theharmonicalewinskies.bandcamp.com)

To cop a line from Mark Twain, everyone talks about rock ‘n’ roll, but nobody ever does anything about it. Enter the Harmonica Lewinskies: These young beer-soaked hooligans from the Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen collective in Brooklyn positively live, breath, drink, eat, shit, and – after a particularly good Saturday night – puke rock’n’ roll. While only in their early twenties, the Lewinskies understand the blues like a toothless septuagenarian sharecropper. They have mastered the swagger and strut of soul men like Booker T. and Marvin Gaye. They move like Jagger, write licks like Richards, and sling metaphors like Dylan; they’ll make you want to laugh, sing, dance, and copulate.

They are all those things we have come NOT to associate with Brooklyn indie rock: Passionate, sweaty, sexy, sincere, and insanely gifted musically. Several of them sing, all of them contribute harmonies and gang vocals, and if all that weren’t enough, they work out of the divinely inspired Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen studio, which has been churning out quality product these days faster than Hostess bakes Twinkies (see also: Ghost Pal, Great American Novel, No Shoes, Graveyard Kids, and coming soon, a tasty pop act called the Jean Jackets.)

Talented guitarists and even quality vocalists are a dime a dozen, and it’s not all that hard to find some young buck who can blow a blues harp; but it’s rare to find a local act – especially one working in a DIY studio on a shoestring budget – that uses trumpet and sax as well as the Lewinskies.

While the performances and production remain uniformly top-notch throughout this 7-song release, the inspired songwriting and clever arrangements are what really define this band. “Good Man, He Come” fakes you out with a bluesy intro, then cranks into high gear with a funky soul workout, with perfectly choreographed horns and blues harp. “Two Kids And An Ant” spotlights the Lewinskies’ pop side, with Robert Bettegna’s boyish vocals buoyed by punchy horns, an almost theatrical melody, and an insanely infectious “ooh ooh ooh” chorus, like something out of Stiff Records in the early Eighties. Guitarist Will Simpson does the Sam & Dave thang on the R&B workout “Boner For The Benny’s,” whose bridges features a sinister bassline and insinuating harmonica. Singer/guitarist Dan McLane adds a dash of Lower East Side panache on “Wagstaff,” which slakes its Velvet Underground sleaze with a pure-pop eruption of exuberant woo-hooing. “Tabitha King” and “Kitchen Sink” meld Zappa-esque horn section freakouts with rock ‘em sock’em choruses (McLane’s impassioned “I’m not gonna die” on “Kitchen Sink” could teach Titus Andronicus a thing or two about gang vocal singalongs), while “How To Run A Business” meshes Gram Parsons faux-bluegrass with Exile on Main Street raunch (and the most deliciously filthy double-entendre chorus I’ve heard in years.)

At seven songs and about 25 minutes, “Wall Street Octopus” may run an awkward length, but it will definitely be either the shortest album or the longest EP on my Top 10 list at the end of 2012.

THE MOMMYHEADS – Vulnerable Boy (Dromedary Records)

Well into their second incarnation (the Mommyheads date back to Nineties, took a long hiatus, and reformed in 2008,) the Mommyheads remain masters of intelligent, adult rock exploring serious themes with delicate, nuanced melodies. There are moments here that are breathtakingly beautiful – like the opening moments of “Science And Reason,” or the delicate verses of “Medicine Show.” The band also hasn’t lost its penchant for the weird; just check out the creepy “The Intruder,” about a mysterious stranger who’s insinuated himself into the protagonist’s family. The Mommyheads are not without humor either, as evidenced by the bouncy “Skinny White Uptight” (about a high school nerd’s revenge) and the self-deprecating bonus track, “No One Gives A Damn About Your Band.” If the Mommyheads were content to stick to major chords and catchy melodies, they’d be in a league with Fountains Of Wayne or Nada Surf; but instead, the band too often dives headfirst into prog-rock noise excursions that pepper the tracks with minor key atonality and dissonance. Rather than expanding the band’s musical palette, these forays into unlistenability often just seem self-defeating. Maybe after 25 years (off and on,) songwriters Adam Elk and Michael Holt just find power pop boring and need to keep twist things up a bit to keep themselves engaged. Personally, I wish they’d stick to the script and stop improvising.

BLACK WINE - Hollow Earth (Don Giovanni Records)

It's never easy to start over, so it's understandable that Black Wine had its share of growing pains. For a while, it was hard to think of this as anything but "Jeff Erg's new band," despite the impressive resumes of bandmates J Nixon and Miranda Taylor (Hunchback, Full Of Fancy.) But on the group's third full-length, Black Wine seems to have finally found its voice, a near-perfect assimilation of everything we loved on Our Band Could Be Your Life, from the roiling guitars and subversive melodies of Husker Du to the revelatory guitar leads of Dinosaur Jr. to the exuberant new-wave flavored grrl power of Bikini Kill. Drummer Miranda Taylor (who also happens to be Jeff "Erg" Schroeck's wife) comes into her own as both vocalist and songwriter on this release, channeling the Go Go's and Bananarama even as her hubby and bassist Nixon echo Mission of Burma and the Minutemen. Nixon's bass lines jump from the mix, as do Schroeck's economical but mind-bending solos. This is a trio that exemplifies the power of the triangle, each side an equally powerful and necessary part of the whole.

THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL – Kissing (thegreatamericannovel.bandcamp.com)

Rock ‘n’ roll is due for a comeback; not even the most effete hipsters can listen to Bon Iver all the time.

Nowhere has that been more apparent than at Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen, the small studio in Brooklyn that’s nurtured a community of talented twentysomethings whose bands infuse classic blues, garage, and Sixties pop tropes into contemporary indie-rock. The Harmonica Lewinskies focus on sweaty, greasy soul and R&B, Ghost Pal (which features Mama Coco’s house producer, Oliver Ignatius) tends to be more cerebral, while The Great American Novel set out on their sophomore full-length Kissing to reclaim the golden era of Stiff Records power-pop for lovesick bookworms.

Frontman Layne Montgomery’s pitchy, yelping vocals may be an acquired taste, but his engagingly self-deprecating sense of humor (try to imagine a Brooklyn wunderkind like Brad Oberhofer singing “I’m so bad with girls”) and uncanny knack for hooky choruses is downright irresistible. While Montgomery’s vocals can’t be avoided, the rest of GAN – guitarist JR Atkins, guitarist Peter Kilpin, keyboardist Devin Calderin, and drummer Zac Coe – shines here, with each member getting at least one chance to really kick out the jams and display their impressive chops.

The band can whip out ecstatic party jams (try not standing still to the exuberant “American Weekend” or the fuzzed-out garage-stomp of “Are You Sure You Don’t Wanna Hang Out?” ) or flesh out melodies with ear-tickling textures (like the barrelhouse piano and doo-wop harmonies that kickstart the opening track, “Sleeping Alone.” ) And at Mama Coco’s Funky Kitchen, no one understands the words “we can’t do it.” So throughout this album, you’re constantly impressed by extra little touches - Springsteen-esque peals of glockenspiel, lush Pet Sounds-like vocal harmonies, Stax/Volt style horns. Besides the “Born To Run” glockenspiel, Calderin contributes a bit of Roy Bittan-like piano tinkling, but the E Street comparisons end when the band kicks into giddy high gear and mashes up equal parts of Eighties Stiff Records-era power-pop and Nineties Pavement-esque squall.

On GAN’s sloppier, less compelling first album You & I, the hooks were there but the band didn’t own its own style yet. On Kissing, the name of the band makes perfect sense: Montgomery revels in his inner geek, resulting in sparkling wordplay on tracks like “Raymond Carver,” “Does This Train Stop At 57th Street?” (with its frank appraisal of parent/son relationships,) and especially “All The Sad Young Literary Men” (“she asked if I read Nabokov, I said no but I loved Philip Roth.”) Just as Conor Oberst emerged a decade ago as the poet laureate of socially retarded teenagers, Layne Montgomery might just be the J.D. Salinger of twentysomething angst, churning out refreshingly honest laments about crushes and kissing and going to bed alone; this record’s not so much about post-adolescent sex and romance as it is a treatise on obsessing over how nice it would be to have a girlfriend.

*In the interests of full disclosure, GAN members Layne Montgomery and Zac Coe write for this publication.

GHOST PAL – “Extended Family” EP (ghostpal.bandcamp.com)

BILLY RAYGUN s/t (John Wilkes Booth Records)

Equal parts sweat, snot, and adrenaline, New Hampshire basement show heroes Billy Raygun follow up a series of EP's and split 7 inches with their first full length, 10 blasts of aggro pop-punk with an average running time of way under 2 minutes. Early forays into teenage romance and early-Lookout! Records riffage have been replaced by post-adolescent anomie and a newfound love of dissonance. They nail the catchy singalong choruses - "Silkworm" could be some longlost Green Day demo - and even work in a nod to early 'Mats, but mostly they're pissed off and proud of it, throwbacks to the days when punk rock was the last refuge for social misfits and not a soundtrack for the football team's' beer blasts.

KEITH MONACCHIO – “Tips, Drinks, And Gas Money” EP (keithmonacchio.com)

RIVER CITY EXTENSION – Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Your Anger (XOXO)

JEREMY BENSON – Dark Songs 2 (jeremybenson.bandcamp.com)

If you’re familiar with Jeremy Benson as a member of Metuchen’s veteran alt-folk group Roadside Graves, his second solo album (arriving some eight years after Darksongs 1) won’t come as too much of a surprise. For years, Benson’s had the unenviable task of having to sing harmonies with frontman John Gleason’s pitchy , quavering soprano. On his own, Benson sings in a craggy baritone often eerily similar to latterday Johnny Cash, but stylistically doesn’t stray far from the country-tinged indie folk of the Graves. The ambitious production includes strings and horn arrangements, but everything revolves around Benson’s finger-picked acoustic guitar. Thematically, the title “Dark Songs” certainly fits; along with two sparkling instrumentals, these are breakup songs, farewell songs, songs of partings and endings. I found it fascinating that a track like “Light At The River” promises redemption almost in the guise of an old-time spiritual, but on the humanist “Take Care Of Yourself,” Benson sings, “I don’t believe there’ll be anyone looking watching you from up above, so take care of yourself.” They seem to be the words of a man who cares a great deal about the people in his life – even those who are walking away from him – but who doesn’t place much faith in the Almighty. As a counterpoint to Benson’s gravelly vocals, Ivana Carrescia sings the sad folk lament “The Table” in a delicate, flowery voice, noting that even the church and the horses have turned their backs on this destitute family, and the town’s gone so far to hell that there aren’t even any buckets left to lower down into the well. “Where have you gone,” she sings to her man, noting that as worthless as he may feel, he’s no good to his family if he’s not there. Like Johnny Cash’s cycle of “American Recordings” late in his life, Jeremy Benson sings simple, sad songs that promise little but pain, loss, and deprivation. But the message recurs, again and again, that no matter what happens, life is always better if we find a way to stick together.

THOMAS WESLEY STERN – American Pain (soundcloud.com/thomaswesleystern)

Thomas Wesley Stern plays back porch, kick off your shoes, hug a loved one and pass a jug folk music. It’s warm, embracing, entirely acoustic (and drummerless,) charmingly melodic, spiritually refreshing, and one of the most enjoyable releases by any New Jersey band I’ve heard this year. Joe Makoviecki’s disarmingly low-key lead vocals typically get swallowed by pitch-perfect harmonies and the warm analog sounds of acoustic guitars, banjo, standup bass, with occasional solos on clarinet and harmonica. In case you can’t tell, I love this record. I love the way its fresh-faced optimism washes away the technological drudgery of our age and regales in the beauty of the human voice and the human spirit. I love its humanity and the way each song invites the listener to a party where all are welcome and everyone’s too busy having a good time to worry about whether any of it is “cool” or not. From the lovelorn bluegrass croon of “Your Front Door” to the campfire celebration of friendship this is “Barns Of Wood,” to the hoedown party vibe of “Rounders,” to the elegiac “Princeton City Blues.” Every great country album needs at least one good drinking song too, and that’s here with “Don’t Put My Whiskey Away.” Thomas Wesley Stern defies labels and transcends boundaries; I’d want this band at my birthday party, my wedding and – truth be told – I’d love to have “Barns Of Wood” played at my funeral. They’re the perfect antidote to the 21st Century, whenever you need a reminder of how good music can make you feel with the simple power of strings and voice.

THE PORCHISTAS – The Baby Album (theporchistas.com)

Montclair’s Porchistas call their music “lyrically driven hippy punk,” which certainly fits, although it doesn’t really capture the breadth of these talented musicians’ songwriting. As the auteurs behind the hipster-defining “The PBR Song,” songwriters Alan Smith and Adam Falzer are certainly no strangers to the topical novelty song, and they’ve come up with a few funny ones here, starting with the lead off track, “Friends In The Underground.” A good-natured update of the Mr. T Experience’s “Dumb Little Band,” the track features a swinging horn section and one of the band’s typically self-deprecating and lighthearted lyrics, which eschew the glamour of instant fame (via reality TV or a big radio hit) for the freedom of underground music. “Tooty Tooty Ta” and “Zombie Jesus” also celebrate the Porchistas’ goofy side, the former a folkie singaglong and the latter a novelty track about Jesus rising from the dead…as the undead. But the band does have its serious side, you just have to scratch benefit the surface a little to find it. The upbeat, ska-infused “Make A Wish,” for instance, was actually inspired by the economic disparity of Smith’s hometown of Newark. “Frankly You Can Thank Me” addresses the hot-button issue of gun control (and the Trayvon Martin shooting,) while the funky, reggae-fied “Oh Brother” is a mea culpa from an adulterer (whose escapades may recall a certain soiled little blue dress and a former occupant of the White House.) “Song For Harry” pays tribute to the criminally underrated Harry Nilsson, while “Swing Little Girl” uses a toy piano as eerie counterpoint on a creepy song about a suicide. The band self-produced the album in its home studio but you’d never know it; the arrangements include horn and string arrangements that few local bands have the ambition to attempt, even in an expensive studio. This is the third Porchistas album in three years, and I hope they keep cranking them out. A sense of humor is a terrible thing to waste.

NO WINE FOR KITTENS – “Not Ready” EP (nowineforkittens.bandcamp.com)

OBERHOFER – Time Capsules II (Glass Note)

Like, oh, about half his generation, Brad Oberhofer moved from his hometown ( Tacoma, WA) to Brooklyn at age 19 to become a pop star. Given that, at 21, he’s already toured the world, played several major festivals, and is only now releasing his first full-length album, I’d say the last two years went pretty well. If hipster Bushwick has had any influence on the lad, it’s probably in that snarkily ironic album title; otherwise, this airy, tuneful, and slightly twee collection of frenetic pop songs show that you can take the boy out of Tacoma but… (You really don’t need to move to Brooklyn to write a Beach Boys-inflected rocker about driving along the highway in a big car, after all.) With his tousled hair, baby face, and strategically unbuttoned retro shirts, Oberhofer’s already won over one demographic; most (but not all) of Time Capsules II should convert any remaining non-believers. Like the UK’s Los Campesinos, Oberhofer (the singer and the band, since he recorded most of this by himself with the assistance of producer Steve Lillywhite) creates sparkly, joyous xylophone-fueled ear candy with just a tinge of regret; but unlike Gareth Campesinos, whose songs convey a maelstrom of complex emotions and generational angst, Oberhofer’s lyrics read like the scribblings in a moody sophomore’s study hall notebook. The lack of emotional depth doesn’t matter when Oberhofer’s at the top of his game, creating earwig melodies and enlivening them with that magical xylophone, buzzy synths, tinkling piano, melodic whistling, and his trademark “ooo-ooo-oohs.” When his hooky muse dries up – as it does on the last three tracks of the album – things can get a little stale. Trim this album down a few songs and you’d have a strong contender for EP of the year. And by the time we get Time Capsules III, young Mr. Oberhofer will have hopefully had his heart broken a few times and have a bit more under his belt to write about. – Jim Testa

COCK DOUGLAS – I Came To Rock (cockdouglas.com)

ALMOST THERE – Abandon The Sinking Ship (almostthererock.com)

THE ALL-ABOUT – Winterpop (theallabout.bandcamp.com)

THE LUNA LAVAL - "Horoscopes" EP (thelunalaval.com)

This Old Bridge, NJ collegiate quartet (several members attend Rutgers-NB) offers a far cry from what you'd expect to find at the grease trucks and basement shows of the Hub City. The band's mature, dense mix mixes elements of shoegaze, post-rock, and even some jazz into intricate soundscaped and polyrhythmic shuffles. "Speaking Freely" showcases an especially intriguing rhythm while "Cachet" has undercurrents of Americana and a lush melody. What distinguishes these three songs are their fierce resistance to being pigeonholed; these songs transcend genres and suggest that the band would be a mind-expanding trip to experience live. I hope I get the opportunity soon.

DOUBLE-BREASTED – “Suit Yourself” (doublebreastedmusic.com)

BIG WILSON RIVER - Octopus (bigwilsonriver.bandcamp.com)

Part of the Black Trunk Records collective from Bergen County, Big Wilson River is yet another group of Jersey kids making rootsy Americana that references everything from the early Who to X. They call themselves "thrash punk" which comes as close as anything to capturing both the energy and earnestness of what they do. "Eighty Dead Armadillos" is Hank Williams by way of "My Generation," "Gypsy Song" mashes up Kurt Weill/The Doors' "Alabama Song" with Tom Waits, "Backyard Passout Fest" sounds like something Michael Hurley meets Nick Cave. Darrin and Emma (no last names anywhere I could find) mix and match lead vocals, backed by big loud guitars, thumping bass, and thrashy drums. It's folk rock for people who like mosh pits. It's really, really good too.

BANQUETS - Top Button, Bottom Shelf (Black Numbers)

PLOW UNITED - SLEEPWALK: A Retrospective (Paper+Plastick)

Does a barely remembered 3-piece pop-punk band from Delaware really deserve a two-disc retrospective? You won’t ask that question once you give a listen to these infinitely catch two-minute blasts of snotty teen punk ‘n’roll. Originally formed as Plow in 1992, then rechristened Plow United at the height of the Nineties pop-punk revival in 1995, the trio recorded for small labels, played basements and VFW Halls from coast to coast, and through word of mouth, fanzine reviews, and lots of hard work, endeared themselves to a small but loyal cult of fans. Sleepwalk: A Retrospective collects the band’s three full-lengths, 7-inch singles and one unreleased track, and 20 years later, still sounds as fresh-faced and bratty as ever. Alternately thrashy and melodic, Plow United remain part Dead Milkmen, part Screeching Weasel, with a little Descendents and a whole lot of adolescent testosterone thrown into the mix.

RESTORATIONS (Tiny Engines)

Old punks never die, they just turn into Bruce Springsteen. That’s certainly one way to account for the small army of former thrash-rockers now touring the country with an acoustic guitar under one arm and a beat up Woody Guthrie songbook under the other. Featuring former members of Philly thrashers Jena Berlin, Restorations’ self-titled 8-song album showcases the raspy, two-packs-a-day vocals of Jon Loudon, whose style mimics the gravel-throated gravity of Jawbreaker’s Blake Schwarzenbach and punk-turned- troubadour Tom Gabel. On the bluesy, downbeat “Canadian Club,” Loudon even does a passable Tom Waits. And through it all, you can’t help thinking of Gaslight Anthem’s regurgitation of tried-and-true Springsteen tropes. The problem here is that everything sounds like something we’ve already heard before. Restorations likes to call its music “punk for grown ups,” but that assumes that grown ups care less about originality than they do about familiarity. This grown up disagrees.

YUCK (Fat Possum)

NAT & ALEX WOLFF – Black Sheep (Saddleup Records)

Nickelodeon’s former Naked Brothers shake off their teen idol past and bid for indie-rock credibility on “Black Sheep,” and while it’s unlikely Pitchfork and the hipster blogosphere will embrace the boys anytime soon, the album does forego autotune, bloopy synths, and the other accoutrements of mass-market bubblegum-pop for modest production and earnest introspection; in fact, it sounds very much like what you’d expect from two teenagers who’ve spent a lot of time mooning over Pinkerton and The Strokes. Happily for the parents of the Wolffs’ Radio Disney demographic, everything remains age appropriate; 17-year old Nat channels his teenage rebellion on the upbeat “18” by equating freedom with hating his parents (or at least living at home with them,) while the still-pubescent Alex flexes his sweet choir-boy falsetto on the delightfully lovesick “Thump Thump Thump.” ‘Tweens will identify with the adolescent angst and pangs of puppy love on songs like “Disappointed” and “Help Me Understand” (little Alex thinks his hair is too curly and his head is too big; Nat wonders why his girlfriend dumped him) but even older listeners should enjoy the relatable lyrics, catchy melodies, and accomplished musicianship. I saw Nat and Alex perform in February, 2010 playing several of these songs and was impressed then; they’ll be back at the The Studio at Webster Hall in NYC on Sunday, November 20 for a 3 p.m. matinee. The Box Story opens. Click here for ticket info.

THE MISFITS – The Devil’s Rain (Misfits Records)

In the current episode of As The Misfits Turn, we find Glenn Danzig and Doyle Von Wolfgang Frankenstein doing Misfits (and Samhain) songs on the Danzig Legacy tour, while Doyle’s real-life brother, bassist Jerry Only, carries on the Misfits name with guitarist Dez Cadena (of Black Flag fame) and drummer Eric “Chupacabra” Arce. Questions about “authenticity” seem ridiculous at this point; in fact, Jerry Only does a much better faux-Danzig yowl on this album than Michael Graves did when he fronted the band a decade ago, and Only seems perfectly capable of plugging the band’s Ramones-y riffs and whoa-oh gang vocals into silly (but catchy) formulaic 3-chord punk songs (which is basically what the short-lived original Misfits did 30 years ago.) At least Only isn’t taking all of this nonsense – or himself - seriously, as Danzig still seems to do; from the cheesy horror-flick sound effects (haunted house thunderclaps, the scratching violin and campy grunts on “Ghost of Frankenstein”) to the sci-fi and monster matinee inspired lyrics, Only & Co. have fun with the concept and seem to really enjoy still being the Misfits. Producer Ed Stasium gives everything a big bright ringing sound (as he did with his work with the Ramones) which, while we’re on the subject, is a big improvement on those 80’s Misfits records, which all sound like they were recorded on wax cylinders in Danzig’s mother’s garage. The Devil’s Rain won’t inspire you to throw away your dog-eared copy of Walk Among Us; but if you’re looking for some catchy monster-inspired punk rock, you could do a lot worse.

PANTHER MODERNS - Back Off, Warchild, It’s A Demo! (panthermodernsnyc.bandcamp.com)

WYLDLIFE (wydlife.bandcamp.com)

Jersey City’s Wyldlife caught my attention with their self-released “Nicotine” EP and their wild, uninhibited, and extremely sweaty live shows. Their full-length debut happily harnesses that youthful energy and throws it right back at you with the uncouth snarl of vintage Johnny Thunders on a Wild Turkey bender. Perhaps it’s because they spend more time in the seedy bars of downtown Jersey City than the DIY hipstersphere of Bushwick, but frontman Dangerous Dave Feldman and his crew (Samm Allen on guitar, Spencer Alexander on bass, and Rusty Barnett on drums) seem completely disinterested in anything that Todd P. or Pitchfork might consider au courant. Instead they dive headfirst and shirts off into greasy rock ‘n’roll, channeling the Dolls on the sassy “S.W.A.K.”, unashamedly reveling in misogynistic fantasies on “The First Time I Killed Someone,” or assaying bar room country by way of Exile-era Stones on “Bird.” Allen’s guitar sizzles, Alexander’s bass provides a head-bobbingly melodic thump, and Barrnett’s steady drums hold the whole shootin’match together. A few favorites from the “Nicotine” EP get thrown in to flesh the thing out to full-length, which is fine given how the driving “Lit Lounge” and the howling “Sidewalk Queen” manage to kick up the last glowing embers of Lower East Side sleaze into a full-fledged conflagration. Don’t call it a throwback; this isn’t nostalgia, it’s rock ‘n’ roll. Wyldlife are here for your whiskey, your daughters, and your ears. Get ready to hand it all over.

THE AMBOYS – Led Into The Woods EP (theamboys.bandcamp.com)

KEVIN DEVINE – Between The Concrete And Clouds (Razor & Tie)

THE FRONT BOTTOMS - s/t (Bar None)

In the name of full disclosure, I am not all that bright and frankly, I am often confused. Listening to the Front Bottoms has me blissfully confounded. This Jersey duo plays punk without sounding anything like a punk band, although drummer Mathew Uychich also plays bullhorn and I think that’s pretty punk. Actually, what makes this such a triumphant exercise in musical experimentation is Brian Sella’s soaring vocals and positively scathing lyrics. His storytelling sounds like stream of consciousness run amok; a wild, sardonic dissection of suburbia, growing up, and being bored. When he says on “Maps” that “I move slow, slow enough to make you uncomfortable”, he may be capturing the mood of the disc. There is a perpetual sense of confusion and disorientation that will either endear this band to one’s soul or fill a person with indescribable frustration. “Mountain” acts as a perfect example: the song begins innocuously enough with a well placed horn accenting such lyrical gems as “I love your eyes the way they look when you’re uncomfortable,” before effortlessly giving way to a surprisingly aggressive riff. As the noise fades, the beautiful horn returns and the song leaves quietly and quickly. Each track plays out like an intriguing short story; a mixture of brilliant metaphors with musical accompaniments that range from gritty to lush. One can find wildly funny and biting lines within the context of every effort, whether Sella is discussing homeless former classmates (“Flashlight”), being on the run to Florida (“Rhode Island’) or killing his father with a baseball bat (“Father;”) although my personal favorite comes from the aforementioned “Maps.” as Sella emotes in a marvelously deadpan delivery, “One day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.” Wow. Even the bouncy, dance-hall groove of “The Beers” seems to take on a more ominous tone when the narration turns to the brutally honest admission that it was” the summer when I was taking steroids because you like a man with muscles and I like you”. The courage to express such awkward, even embarrassing, truths makes this an unforgettable listening experience. Within these songs, there is some piece of your own life experience whether you chose to admit it or not, and this will connect with people on a hauntingly personal level. The playing is fairly straightforward and somewhat minimalist, yet as all the components come together, there is a vast canvas on display for those daring enough to stay with this. For those who believe that the DIY aesthetic is fading away, find this and revel. - Rich Quinlan

Brian Sella (acoustic guitar, lead vocals) and Matt Uychich (drums, vocals) are the Front Bottoms, who until recently had been my pick as the best unsigned band in New Jersey. Enter Bar None, who offered to remaster and reissue the band’s barely-heard 2010 EP “Slow Dance To Slow Rock” along with six new songs as this eponymous debut full-length, available in a nifty two-disc 10” vinyl configuration along with CD and digital. The songs are fleshed out with dollops of synths, trumpet, and strings, although mostly it’s Brian Sella’s plaintive post-emo vocals and his vibrant imagination working against Matt Uychich’s minimalist drumkit, pounding home the beat. Sella portrays himself as the nerdy post-adolescent, fretting about girls (“I will remember that summer, as the summer I was taking steroids, ‘cause you like a man with muscles, and I like you”), pondering suicide like a latterday “Harold And Maude” (“there’s comfort at the bottom of a swimming pool”) and patricide (smashing his father’s head in with a baseball bat.) But his morbid fantasies are more than offset by his insecurities (the brilliant “Maps,” the creepy “Flashlight,” the obsessive-compulsive “Bathtub;”) and his ability to conjure up indelible images from the most prosaic details, often nonchalantly throwing in mind-blowing non-sequiturs (“I love your eyes, the way they look when you’re uncomfortable;” “I’m the last one on the dance floor, as the chandelier gives way.”) Or this one: “But you’re an artist, and your mind don’t work the way you want it to; one day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.” And Sella speaks for the entire post-Obama generation when he sings, “I could stand up, I could man up, but it’s just so convenient to be fragile.” Every one of these original and provocative thoughts is set to an irresistibly catchy singalong melody too. In a perfect world, these songs would be the summer jams of misfit teens and twentysomethings everywhere, obsessing about growing up, getting laid, and leaving home (or worse, not being able to come back.) Then again, speaking personally, those themes resonate when you’re in your fifties too. As Sella sings in “The Boredom Is The Reason,” “you’re part of a program, so get with the program... You’re not even sleeping, you’re probably even listening.” God, I hope so. - Jim Testa

LET ME RUN – “Let Me Run” EP (letmerun.bandcamp.com)

SPEED THE PLOUGH – Shine (Dromedary)

THE COPYRIGHTS – North Sentinel Island (Red Scare)

Ridiculously catch singalong gang vocals on every track? Check. Subtly insightful lyrics championing the underdog and the working class? Check. Songs that make you feel happy to be alive and ready to jump headfirst into the next available moshpit? Check. So it must be the new Copyrights album. I wish there was something original I could add to this conversation, but this crew has been the most consistently excellent purveyors of this sort of fist in the air pop-punk going back to 2003’s “We Didn’t Come Here To Die.” This is their fifth album and might just be their best; as always, Brett and Fletcher and Jeff and Luke capture the relentless back-breaking torment of day-to-day survival at the bottom of the food chain, yet still manage to inject notes of optimism and hope. “Ignorance is bliss, they say,” they sing on “Never Move Your Back Row,” “and I’m a tough motherfucker who can make it through the day.” So how do they – and we – keep on going? Because there’s always tomorrow, and it might just be better, and we’ve always got our dreams: “I wanna die with a worn out passport, in the pocket of stolen jeans, on a beach somewhere I’ve never been before, surrounded by people I’ve never seen.” Don’t say you’ve heard all this before; you may have heard music like it, just like you’ve heard the blues or soul. But every note the Copyrights play, every word they sing, comes from the heart, and that never, ever gets old.

ARE YOU LISTENING? The Top 100 Albums of 2001-2010 from New Jersey Artists by Gary Wien (facebook.com/AreYouListeningNJ)

Gary Wien has quietly worked behind the scenes, mostly in Asbury Park music circles, as a publisher, writer, journalist, and most recently, curator of one of the Internet radio stations that airs my show (so, you know, caveat emptor here.) He set himself the Sisyphean task of listening to over 2,000 recordings by New Jersey artists released in the decade 2000-2010 and the results - ranked through some arithmetic process by which each record was given a point ranking by Wien - can be found in this handsome trade paperback (there is also a less expensive B&W edition). The handsomely illustrated tome provides colorful photos (not just recycled publicity stills) as well as background information on Gary's top 100 New Jersey records and the artists who made them.

It goes without saying that this is Gary's list - not mine, not yours - and so, yeah, there are going to be some quibbles, as there always are with these best-of lists. No Wrens, no Ted Leo, no Yo La Tengo? No Roadside Graves or Tris McCall or Screaming Females? Well, to each his own. Wien's taste runs heavily (and I do mean heavily) to white guys with guitars; Val Emmich shows up three times, to give you an idea of his taste. There are women artists well represented in the book, but no virtually hip hop, jazz, or soul. (One wonders if the title shouldn't have been "The Top 100 Indie and Folk Rock Albums From NJ Artists.")

There's precious little metal, hardcore, or underground punk for that matter, unless you want to count post-teen emo-punks Echo Screen (who get two albums on the list, despite being dismissed by AbsolutePunk as "a simplified and high octane Fall Out Boy and Punchline hybrid.") But Saves The Day, Early November, Hidden In Plain View, Boysetsfire? Uh uh.

There are a few ringers, as well; Fountains of Wayne (who, name aside, really were never a NJ band;) Dramarama, who relocated to L.A. decades before recording Everybody Dies in 2004; Springsteen's The Rising, which technically qualifies but doesn't really fit into the indie vibe of most of the book; and the (admittedly excellent) album April Smith made years after she'd moved to Brooklyn.

There are a few recognizable "names" on the list besides The Boss - My Chemical Romance, Thursday, Gaslight Anthem, Bouncing Souls - and a couple of up and comers (the Gay Blades make the list, as does Titus Andronicus' annoyingly self-indulgent The Monitor. But there's nothing from contemporaries like Real Estate, Steel Train, Vivian Girls, and all those other Ridgewood/Glen Rock bands that Pat Stickles went to high school with, or the hugely-lauded 2009 album by Cymbals Eat Guitars, whose genesis was in Manahawkin. Wien does recognize Jersey's history of breeding great punk rock bands in sweaty house shows in several of his essays; but unless those bands eventually graduated from the basement to Starland Ballroom (Thursday, MCR, Bouncing Souls,) they don't make the list: For Science, Measure (SA), Plastic East, Mohawk Barbie, Atomic Missiles, Full of Fancy, Hunchback, Seasick, and that whole '00 generation of New Brunswick punk goes unmentioned.

Mostly you'll find guitar-centric indie-rock bands like Souls Release, Maybe Pete, Bill Owens Five, Successful Failures, Sunday All Stars, Wicker Hollow, Steel Mill, and Red Wanting Blue who spent most of their careers in small clubs like the Saint, Brighton Bar, Court Tavern, and Maxwells. There's also a surfeit of singer/songwriters, many with Jersey shore ties, like George Wirth, Ken Shane, Keith Monacchio, Arlan Feiles, Jon Caspi,Bob Burger, Lisa Bouchelle, James Dalton, Zak Smith, Anthony Walker, Rick Barry, and Christine Martucci.

Don't get me wrong; in the context of this particular book, that's a good thing. It's these largely unheralded and often forgotten artists who are the real stars here, and it's commendable that Wien has chronicled their efforts and provides some background on their work. But even there I have a quibble. (Of course.) Reading between the lines often uncovers a predilection for hyperbole, as when Wien states that Gaslight Anthem's "The 59 Sound" "practically made them a household word for rock n roll fans all over the world." The album peaked at 70 on the Billboard Top 200 albums chart and has yet to be certified as a gold record, which means that under 500,000 copies have been sold. (Granted, many more have doubtlessly been shared illegally... but that's another book altogether.) Gaslight Anthem got big in Jersey and did some tours, but "a houseold word around the world" suggests Lady Gaga, Kanye West, or Madonna, not five guys in white t-shirts from Jersey whose biggest claim to fame is how well they rip off Bruce Springsteen. Heck, I doubt the Boss is a household word in Belarus or Pakistan.

Want more? Divine Sign, the fine but humble folk pop pairing of Lindsey Miller and Kerry McNulty, are compared to "Neil Young, the Band, and even Fleetwood Mac," which is a little like comparing that play your 11 year old son made in Little League this morning to the iconic Willie Mays basket catch that helped win the '54 World Series.

Side note: Links or references on how one might access some of this music would have been helpful, too.

If you've been a regular reader of Jersey Beat or the Aquarian for the last decade, Are You Listening? will bring back some pleasant memories and might even inspire a visit to the unvisited corners of your CD collection. And if you weren't there, this is as good a place as any to discover a little of what you missed.

But really, Gary, no Ergs?

MODERN HUT - "Wrong" EP (Don Giovanni Records)

Modern Hut is the solo project of Joe Steinhardt, formerly of New Brunswick pop-punkers For Science, and one half of Don Giovanni Records. The band's been through several incarnations (including a duo for a time with Chelsea Lacatena of Short Attention,) but at this point it seems to be Joe and whomever he can corral into recording with him. As Modern Hut, Steinhardt has in the past performed acoustic versions of For Science songs as well as folkie, thoughtful originals, but "Wrong" offers an interesting change of pace, a dense swirl of electric guitars behind Joe's trademark laconic vocals. The man has always had an ear for melody and this one's catchy as hell; the tune nods along a little like solo Bob Mould. I think that's Fid (ex Measure SA) shredding the solo in the background. The flipside "Life" is a song I recognize from hearing live; here, Joe's enlisted Marissa Paternoster of Screaming Females to duet with him over strummed acoustic guitars. It's a gently pokey tune with a droopy, shuffling beat; hearing Marissa play Emmy Lou Harris to Joe's Gram Parsons is a real treat. Given the stable of talent Joe can draw from just from his own label, we can almost certainly look forward to Modern Hut serving up more surprises like this in the future.

ANTIETAM - Tenth Life (Matador)

It's been 30 years since Tara Key and Tim Harris relocated their Southern boogie-punk Babylon Dance Band north to Hoboken, where the streets were lined with recording contracts and gold nuggets and free John Courage Ale poured from every spigot. Of course the Hoboken of the early 80's wasn't quite that idyllic but Tim and Tara did manage to put down roots, forming an enduring alliance with Yo La Tengo and other musicians (especially Tara's collaborations with Rick Rizzo). So here we are three decades later, Antietam still very much a band, Tim and Tara still very much a couple, and Tenth Life one of the group's most focused and tuneful releases in a while. Tara Key still creates a maelstrom of sound with guitar and voice - in many ways, she's the template for what Marissa Paternoster is doing now in Screaming Females - but the jamming and shredding is kept to a minimum, working in service to some of the band's strongest melodies in a while. Like Sonic Youth and and Mission of Burma and a whole host of Eighties noise-bands who are still making meanintful rock records, Antietam shows no signs of age or irrelevance. Girls with guitars never seem to get the same adulation we extend to our punk poets like Patti Smith or the small army of post-punk divas who strut across stages mic in hand but can't play a note. It's about time Tara got credit for a voice and a guitar style that's as unique as anything indie rock has given us in the last three decades.

BIG UPS (bigups.bandcamp.com)
FLAGLAND (flagland.bandcamp.com)

These two collegiate bands both serve up giddy, fun punk rock perfect for beer-soaked basements. Joe Galarrga's high-pitched half sung/half shouted vocals sound like an 8 year old on a sugar high when Big Ups is raging about the simple pleasures pizza, high 5's, or their favorite comic strip. Most songs clock in under 2 minutes, which is perfect for this sort of silly ADD punk, although the band does stretch out a bit for the thrashy party anthem "Breaking Things (Reluctantly.)" Flagland offers variations on the same themes, with whiny post-emo vocals and songs like "Asshole Boyfriend" and "My New Gun." Think Jonathan Richman for frat party mosh pits and you've got the idea.

DEVO SPICE - Gnome Sane? (devospice.com)

Tom Rockwell aka Devo Spice needs no introduction if you're a fan of the Dr. Demento show or an aficionado of nerdcore (a genre primarily composed of comedic rap songs.) But if you haven't heard of him, get ready for a good chuckle. With a deadpan delivery, sampled beats (that often turn into clever mashups,) a sharp wit, and a plethora of nerdist pop-culture references, Devo Spice wrings humor from our technology-obsessed day to day lives. If there's a knock, it's that he often visits the same territory twice: There are songs about nerds and geeks, Christmas and Halloween, Twitter and Facebook. But Rockwell (along with a stellar cast of nerdcore guest stars, including Worm Quartet, the Great Luke Ski, MC Lars, and YT Cracker) hits the mark more often than he misses. Pick hits: "Platform Wars" (Mac vs PC), "I'm Not Your Personal IT Guy," and probably the ultimate nerdcore in-joke, " Weird Al Didn't Write This Song."

LAURA STEVENSON & THE CANS – Sit Resist (Don Giovanni)

THE GAY BLADES – Savages (Triple Crown/ILG)

Released as a free download on Halloween weekend, Hunters & Runners’ new EP brings a fresh jazzy vibe to the NYC indie scene. The music-hall tone of “Meet Your Maker” suggests what the Gay Blades might sound like without the snarkiness, while “Knife” has an almost Steely Dan like jazz groove. I really like the final track, “The Ghost,” with its layered harmony vocals and propulsive melody. This band borrows a lot of tropes from Sixties pop but makes it all sound quite modern, a neat trick. Mostly this 3-song treat makes me eager to see them live. Download the record at huntersandrunners.bandcamp.com

CARE BEARS ON FIRE – Girls Like It Loud (carebearsonfire.com)

The three teen gals in Park Slope’s Care Bears On Fire might not be old enough to remember the Clinton administration, but they’ve got a ton of rock’n’roll history packed into their sound. With echoes of the Runaways and Go Go’s, the girls four super-catchy originals and two inspired covers (Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” and the Marbles’ “Red Lights,” a club hit back in late 70’s Manhattan.) The girls’ musicianship and vocals are certainly solid (they hit the harmonies on “Red Lights” way better than the Marbles ever did!), but it’s their songwriting that really impresses: “ATM” tells off a boyfriend who’s always borrowing money , with a “whoop whoop” chorus that will have you dancing around your bedroom. “What Could I Be” and “Ask Me What I Am” both qualify a teen girl anthems that blow away anything Miley Cyrus has ever done, but even they don’t compare with the brilliant “Barbie Eat A Sandwich,” a song about female body image and empowerment. The digital download (available from iTunes) comes with three videos - two different versions of “Everybody Else” from their last record, and a hilarious green-screen visualization of the Barbie song.

VAL EMMICH - Looking For A Feeling You Never Knew You Needed (valemmich.com)

TV fans know him from Ugly Betty or 30 Rock, or maybe one of his many TV commercials. But here in NJ, we know Val Emmich is a musician first and actor second. The singer/songwriter pulls out all the stops and gives us a taste of everything he’s learned in his 10-year career on the digitally-released Looking For A Feeling.... He tugs at the heartstrings with the piano-driven ballad “Gone,” pumps up the volume on uptempo indie rockers like “Don’t Wanna Go Home” and “Next To Me,” and hits the dancefloor for the beat-heavy “Sidekick.” Lyrically, many of the songs return to the same themes, the search for identity and the difficult passage into adulthood - understandable for a talented musician who keeps getting cast as boy toys as an actor. Emmich started on an indie, went through the major label meatgrinder, and now he’s self-releasing himself digitally. Do yourself a favor and download this.

SARIN McHUGH & THE EVERYMEN – “Rotocoma Pollution!” EP (myspace.com/ sarinmchughandtheeverymen)

KURT BAKER – Got It Covered (Oglio Records)

Much like the Methadones, Kurt Baker of the Leftovers has given us an album of his favorite power-pop classics from the 70’s and 80’s, delivered with his usual high energy. With the Leftovers on hiatus (I pray it’s just a hiatus,) Kurt’s recruited a top-notch backup band for these tunes, which include Cheap Trick’s “Let Me Out,” Nick Lowe’s “Cruel To Be Kind,” and the Vapors’ “Turning Japanese,” all done with considerable respect to the originals. Kurt’s strength with the power-poppy Leftovers – maybe this has something to do with coming from Portland, Maine – has been to imbue even the cheesiest sentiments with a fresh-faced earnestness; he sings everything with a smile, never a smirk, which allows him to make even Top 40 AM Radio fodder like Rick Springsfield’s “I’ve Done Everything For You” into something resembling punk rock. And with his lugubrious take on Joe Jackson’s “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”, Kurt proves that he always has a career in lounges to fall back on in case this rock ‘n’ roll thing doesn’t work out.

SCREAMING FEMALES – Castle Talk (Don Giovanni Records)

HOODLESS – Music For Jerks (hoodlessrocks.com)

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