Born Gold
I Am An Exit
(Art Control / Hovercraft) 

Cecil Frena’s work leading to Born Gold’s mega-promising debut Bodysongs was frenetic, cramming countless musical concepts into three-minute kaleidoscopes of electro-pop; its dense, moody follow-up, Little Sleepwalker, was uneven at best, boring at worst. So, if there’s any apt description for Frena’s songs, it’s that they’re unpredictable—and on I Am An Exit, he takes yet another left turn, this time for the better. With Exit, Frena dabbles in capital-E embarrassment rock, and it’s really, really good: Opener “Abdomen” sounds like the worst track M83’s even written or the best Owl City single ever. “Strange Wind” sounds like it could score a hedonistic EDM rave-up scene in a forgettable Apatow ripoff. And the album’s most jaw-dropping chorus, on “Hunger,” sounds like it should be in a 30 Seconds to Mars smash. But we mean it lovingly—Frena’s unpackable, poetic lyrics, his commitment to D.I.Y., and his penchant for thoughtful diatribes makes Exit a guilty pleasure that ain’t packed with empty carbs. (MT)

Danny Brown
Old
(Fool’s Gold)

“Hipster at heart but I can tell you how the streets feel.” With lines like that, no wonder Tumblr users everywhere can’t get enough of Danny Brown. But don’t let his status as Pitchfork-approved rap darling of the moment fool you; Brown deserves every accolade he racks up as one of hip-hop’s most forward-thinking and technically adept performers, and Old is all the proof anyone should need. Alternately harrowing and party-crushing, Brown lets loose over 19 of the most leftfield productions ever assembled anywhere, much less on a single release. One minute he’s walking past junkies and shootouts during a trip to the convenience store (“Wonderbread”), the next he’s living it up over his tour DJ SKYWLKR’s molly anthem (“Dip”). Danny plays to the album’s schizophrenia, dividing it into two sides, with the first being the ostensibly more “serious” side. Brown might not be the zeitgeist rapper that the blogosphere makes him out to be, but if he keeps this up, he eventually just might be. (JM)

HAIM
Days Are Gone
(Columbia)

When listening to Days Are Gone for the first time, I felt robbed. I felt like it was criminal that I wasn’t born into this multi-instrumentalist family, as the elder brother who kinda just stands in the background idly tapping on a tambourine, riding his talented trio of sisters’ collective coattail to critical and commercial success. Este, Alana, and Danielle Haim comfortably straddle indie-pop darling status and commercial saleability, with their future-folk sound that is often compared to Fleetwood Mac. While their sound is rooted in classic rock, HAIM sneak in elements of ‘90s pop and R&B, a feel-good disco bounce, and a definite Billboard-ready sheen courtesy of producer Ariel Rechtshaid (Charli XCX, Vampire Weekend) and his buzz generating sonic touch. HAIM is currently doing equal duty on hype-heavy music blogs and on Starbucks’ stereos, but hey, snobs, that doesn’t mean they’re debased, corporate-friendly fluff that should be overlooked. It means their joyful talent and familial chemistry is undeniable, regardless of what angle you come at them, bro. (AZ)

Katy Perry
Prism
(Capitol)

As much as she’s the most popular artist on the planet, there’s equal and opposite levels of vitriol for Katy Perry’s bubblegum pop and her matching candy costumes. I’ve taken to calling it “Newton pop,” but this time the apple is candy coated, and it gets stuck in his musty old powdered white wig. I think I’m mashing up the law of motion with the law of gravitation, but you get my drift. Teenage Dream had FIVE number one singles on Billboard, so even if you’re one of those people who think Perry’s candy apple is a poisonous emblem for everything that’s wrong with music today, you’ve gotta be curious what the reigning chart destroyer has in store for the follow up. Prism is clearly being marketed as a maturation for Katy Perry, and while certain songs echo that marketing message (“By The Grace Of God,” “Unconditionally”), Perry clearly hasn’t lost the endearing ability to make fun of herself and play up her plastic pop persona without losing sight of her genuine personality (“Birthday,” “This Is How We Do”). (AZ)

Minor Alps
Get There
(Barsuk)

There exists in the world of music the unfair purgatory of being underrated. A band or an artist has, say, a big hit of sorts. Said band or artist actually continues or goes on to be one of the better, understated power-pop groups or artists of its time, a fact demonstrated by a decade of excellent albums, sold-out shows at decent-sized venues, a rabid fan base, critical acclaim. It’s kind of a catch-22 because we like our favourites belonging sort of only to us, but we hate justifying following the seemingly obscure career of an assumed wash-up. Nada Surf especially fits in that category (we’re over your “Popular” jokes, BY THE WAY EVERYONE), and Juliana Hatfield could find parts of that story that work for her, too, and now the singer of Nada Surf (Matthew Caws) and Juliana Hatfield have teamed up to make an album under the name Minor Alps. The songs lean melodically more towards Nada Surf’s recent folk-inspired writing, while “Mixed Feelings” evokes the dream of a plugged-in, deadpan Hatfield. It’s for fans of both more than for fans of neither, and we’ll be playing “Buried Plans” all fall. (NV)

Protest the Hero
Volition
(Sony/Razor & Tie)

Protest the Hero’s fourth album was built on the shoulders of their rabid fanbase in the wake of adversity, and for 55 minutes, all contributing factors come together to make Volition the band’s most coherent album yet. Whether it’s the groove of “Without Prejudice,” unrelenting aggression of “Animal Bones,” or looseness of “Mist,” Volition hits on all corners, and while guest drummer Chris Adler fits with the band’s frenetic, at times overwhelming technicality, it’s singer Rody Walker’s anchoring performance that makes this one special. For nearly an hour, he croons, sings, shouts and screams lyrics that are finally entirely his own, and the result is at once passionate and powerful. On album closer “Skies,” the band makes one thing clear—faced with their first ever line-up change, this is still just the beginning for Protest the Hero. The future looks bright. (TM)

Pusha T
My Name is My Name
(Def Jam)

With its sinister and minimal Neptunes production, Hell Hath No Fury remains both the definitive Clipse album and the single best showcase of Pharrell and co.’s talents. Thankfully, listening to My Name is My Name, you’d think it was still 2006. “King Push,” “Numbers on the Boards,” and the Pharrell-produced “Suicide” are probably the coldest beats of 2013; in fact, of the 10 tracks on MNIMN, only the Hudson Mohawke-produced “No Regrets” makes any discernible play for the radio, and that’s a good thing. Pusha and primary producer Kanye West even manage to twist The-Dream and Chris Brown features into dark bangers with zero mainstream appeal—no easy feat. Over and over throughout MNIMN, just as soon as you’re starting to think Pusha might actually want to, you know, sell a record or two, the floor drops out and lands you in another coked-out nightmare. Long Live King Push. (JM)

Red Fang
Whales and Leeches
(Relapse)

There’s nothing wrong with being to the point when you’re great at it, but Red Fang have yet again turned out a success that thrives at first on its simplicity, but sustains itself with the unexpected. Whales and Leeches is groovy from the get-go, but “DOEN” holds it down with an off-kilter rhythm section that fits as naturally as the Queens of the Stone Age-like hooks in second song “Blood Like Cream.” The formula holds from there, drawing immediate comparisons to Mastodon’s The Hunter but perhaps tiptoeing closer to the dividing line between Clutch, Torche, and Kyuss. This is stoner metal done strictly, stripped of hallucinogens and focused on what matters most: riffs. And for 11 songs, Whales and Leeches has them in spades. (TM)

Solids
Blame Confusion
(Independent) 

The debut LP from Solids delivers on everything the Montreal duo have promised through a good, if not ultimately mostly unmemorable, debut pop-punk EP and increasingly loud, cramped shows in unofficial house venues and stages at some of the North America’s biggest festivals over the past few years. Seeing them play Gainsville, Florida’s punk festival The Fest in 2012 was one of the most exciting moments in live music for me that year; Blame Confusion harnesses the aggression, the accessibility, the crucial feeling that being in that room (or, on that patio, as the case is) created. A tracks like “Haze Away” is pure Dinosaur Jr., while much of the rest of the album, especially opening track “Over the Sirens,” is brothers-in-arms with Japandroids’ anthemic, euphoric Celebration Rock and its god damn national treasure track “The House That Heaven Built,” which, over a year after release, still makes you want to be best friends with the whole entire world. Blame Confusion does much the same. (NV)

Strange Attractor
Back to the Cruel World
(Mammoth Cave / FDH / Resurrection) 

Well, this was unexpected. Strange Attractor were formed from the ashes of one of Canada’s most beloved power pop acts—Sudbury, ON’s Statues—and, after releasing a handful of singles and the Mutant Love EP, have dropped one of the most compelling releases of 2013 in Back to the Cruel World. While the band has always toyed with genre (notably, ‘60s garage, ‘80s American punk, power pop, and art rock), Strange Attractor has never felt this polarized, nor this cohesive. Writ large, Cruel World makes negativity, alienation, hatred, and paranoia sound deceptively sweet—and it’s almost freeing to follow the band down the wormhole of negative emotions and mental illness. Sometimes, they feel like bad trips (“S.C.S.”), other times, they’re pathetic waltzes (“Back to the Cruel World”), and they’re almost always brimming with self-hatred (as on the trifecta of “Hot Dog Water,” “This is Total Shit,” and “I’m Total Shit”). It’s not self-deprecation. It’s not self-effacing. It’s self-hatred—and it sounds incredible. (MT)