Against Me!
Transgender Dysphoria Blues
(Total Treble)

Beyoncé
Beyoncé
(Parkwood Entertainment/Columbia)

What does a new Beyoncé record mean? It means a song co-written by Sia (“Pretty Hurts”). It means an aquatic sexual position getting shouted out on the GRAMMYs (“SURFBORT! SURFBORT!”). It means next level collaborations with Pharrell, Timbaland, Frank Ocean, and Miguel. It means Beyoncé finally gets Noah “40” Shebib’s sonic treatment (“Mine”). It means a song co-written and co-produced by Brooklyn buzzband Chairlift. It means The-Dream and Hit-Boy colliding on a feminist anthem (“***Flawless”). It means the geniuses behind “Halo” got together to make a brand new banger (“XO”). It means the raunchiest lyrics we’ve heard from Bey so far, including “Can you lick my Skittles / That’s the sweetest in the middle / Pink that’s the flavor / Solve the riddle” (“Blow”). Oh, and it means EIGHTEEN companion music videos. The only reason this record hasn’t been making more noise is the fact that no one’s surprised it’s phenomenal. Bow down. (AZ)

Burial
Rival Dealer
(Hyperdub)

In terms of reclusiveness, William Bevan (aka Burial) ranks somewhere between Salinger and Bill Watterson, but if solitude’s necessary for crafting material like Rival Dealer, we should just band together and throw him down a well with a laptop and a copy of SoundForge. Each of the three tracks here are mini-masterpieces in their own right, in big part because they don’t simply sound like Burial. Nothing on Untrue or 2006’s Burial holds much in the way of precedent for the DnB break throughout “Rival Dealer” or the bonkers 4×4 drop and Journey-style keyboard in “Hiders.” But it’s “Come Down to Us” that stands as the EP’s real gem: a 13-minute swirling epic of melancholy sitar and vocal samples that morphs into a massive anthem. It’s beyond inspirational without being cheesy. We could debate endlessly what ending the EP with a Lana Wachowski sample means (and clearly the internet’s up for it), but leave that to message board denizens and techno chin-scratchers: Rival Dealer continues the streak of an artist that still surprises while coming into his own, and there’s hopefully stranger, previously unimaginable, material to come. (JM)

Culted
Oblique To All Paths
(Relapse)

Culted’s Oblique to All Paths is an interesting study of process not just because it opens with a droning 19-minute epic, but because while three quarters of the band resides in Winnipeg, the fourth—vocalist Daniel Jansson—is a Swedish resident who’s never met the rest of the group face to face. In spite of this, their second full length is never disparate, and its dirge-like pace makes it more suffocating than disheveled. Aesthetically they’ll walk between all forms of extreme metal, bellowing along a hypnotic backbone with heavy doom scowls and distant shrieks. At its best, Oblique to All Paths is crushing and bleak; at its worst, it’s still an atmospheric descent into the obsolete. (TM)

Graze
Edges
(New Kanada)

Toronto electronic label New Kanada, whose releases are paired with stark monochromatic art, have worked hard to build a distinct visual aesthetic. So perhaps it’s best to think about Graze, the collaboration between Toronto-Berlin producers XI and Adam Marshall, in visual terms. While the LP can be rightfully summarized as a merger of each producer’s backgrounds—they come, respectively, from the techno and jungle / garage world—Edges feels grey, moody, and foreboding, the musical equivalent of a monolithic brutalist structure. Not that it’s inaccessible. Edges isn’t a glossy affair, but it’s certainly built for the dancefloor; most tracks build around a stone-faced 4/4 beat, even if sometimes, the rhythms take the back seat to smooth, airy synths (“GoldN”) and chilling ambient passages (“Oath”). Still, even the headiest moments (the hard-charging “Cold Drop” and the woozy wobbles of “Stack Array”) walk the line between crushing and ice-cold, almost as if the synths of Edges are being filtered through a concrete wall. (MT)

Ryan Hemsworth
☺RYANPACKv.1☺
(Independent)

AUX contributor and resident ray of sunshine Chayne Japal was supposed to write about how much he loves this Ryan Hemsworth mix, but he told us he was too busy. I know—what could be more important than 150 words about a mix that skillfully blends Brooklyn rapper Mr. MFN eXquire with J-Pop avatar Kyary Pyamu Pyamu? Well, don’t freak out, but Chayne’s officially on baby watch. By the time this review is published, the Japal family will be the dopest trio this side of the Seattle grunge movement. This all feels pretty serendipitous to me. What makes Ryan Hemsworth’s mixes so good? He twists elements from one distinct musical world with another, creating an intersecting celebration, something brand new with a narrative unto itself. Take the opening track from ☺RYANPACKv.1☺: “Mine (Notwist N Shout Version)” stacks a Drake-assisted track from Beyoncé up against German indie-experimenters The Notwist for a hazy remix that could only be born out of Hemsworth’s ear for juxtaposition. (AZ)

The Lawrence Arms
Metropole
(Epitaph)

As one of orgcore’s most beloved outfits, the Lawrence Arms were bound to be held to stupid standards with the seemingly out-of-nowhere announcement of their first new album in eight years. Metropole turned out to be a total bummer in the best way possible: aren’t we all just older, once-idealistic assholes trying to make some of sense of wherever the fuck the years have gone, and whether they’re still going anywhere? Of our complacency? Our exhaustion? “The traffic lights blinked a million times, I blinked twice and 20 years went by,” states the title track, and it about sums up entire album. Shit gets even realer on “The YMCA Down The Street From The Clinic,” and though it’s not without the band’s typical crass humour, it’s hard to mask the darkness on Metropole, thanks in no small part to the quieter musical approach. While definitely a Lawrence Arms album, complete with the gruff dual vocals and big choruses, it lacks the immediate harsh musical impact of 2006’s Oh! Calcutta!, a small turn toward subtly that takes a few listens to fully appreciate, but once it settles in, good luck turning this one off. (NV)

Mode Moderne
Occult Delight
(Light Organ)

Mode Moderne’s Occult Delight is a wonderfully memorable LP—but not for the reasons you’d expect. Influences are unveiled on first spin, and they’re not exactly the hardest to pinpoint: The band evidently loves British music from the 1980s, bridging the gap between Morrissey’s crooning mope rock, New Order’s gothic take on post-punk, and the Cure’s penchant for dour synth pop. (And when those influences converge, as on “Grudges Crossed” and “Thieving Babies Breath,” the band feels unstoppable.) Still, it’s a mistake to get tripped up while name-dropping references. The reason Occult Delight has remained at the top of my playlist isn’t because of who they reference—after all, countless others paint with the same sonic palette—but because of the band’s ability to craft fat-free pop songs. Admittedly, on first listen, the dancefloor shuffle of “She, Untamed,” the polished melodies of “Unburden Yourself,” and the string-driven über drama of “Running Scared” felt like guilty pleasures. Weeks later, they’ve become my favourite tracks on the album—one that’s proven to be more delight than occult. (MT)

Jennifer Nettles
That Girl
(Mercury Nashville)

You might recognize Jennifer Nettles as the bubbly frontwoman of cringeworthy country candy factory Sugarland. You know, they had that crossover hit that’s all like “Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, stuck like glue / You and me baby, we’re stuck like glue.” On Jennifer Nettles’ debut solo effort, she doesn’t abandon the bouncy formula that gained Sugarland millions of fans, but she does introduce a more personal, confessional balladeer, equipped with intensely personal stories. That Girl was produced by Rick Rubin, who welcomed heavy-hitter sessionists to his Laurel Canyon recording studio, aka Yeezus ground zero. Indie-rock mainstay Matt Sweeney (yeah, a member of Slint played on this record), Smokey Hormel (Tom Waits, Johnny Cash), and Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dixie Chicks) all lend their considerable talents to a magnificently played record. If you disregard the uptempo Sugarland-esque songs on this record, there’s a masterful EP of emotionally raw ballads, and most importantly, one of the best voices working in Nashville today. (AZ)

Step Brothers
Lord Steppington
(Rhymesayers)

Alchemist and Evidence have been stacking up both production and rapping accolades for years now, together and individually, so it’s no surprise that their collaborative Step Brothers projects’ first release Lord Steppington is a solid demonstration of two hip-hop lifers at the top of their game. Alchemist handles the bulk of the production, and as usual it’s on point: across the board boom-bap drums and airtight sample flips. Evidence’s flow isn’t flashy, but it is heady, with inside jokes and references coming at you so fast you’d think someone set a Gilmore Girls episode to a golden age break. “See the Rich Man Play” is the best manifestation of Lord Steppington’s strengths, with its evocative (and still un-ID’d, a credit to Alchemist’s crate-digging ability) sample and an excellent feature from Roc Marciano. The features are a major part of Lord Steppington’s appeal: it’s hard not to mentally fist-pump when Action Bronson beasts out on “Mums in the Garage,” or Alchemist’s former Whooliganz cohort Scott Caan shows up on “Byron G.” Whether Step Brothers is a one-off or something more substantial remains to be seen, but whatever the case, Lord Steppington is 2014’s strongest hip-hop offering so far. (JM)