36
BONDE DO ROLE
WITH LASERS

Mixing last-century guitar riffs with trashy beats, anachronistic samples, and filthy lyrics, this Brazilian baile-funk trio are about as pretentious as Punky Brewster (both dig neon stretch pants). Why fuss with obscure tracks when the beat from Tone-Loc’s “Wild Thing” still sounds dope? Tastemaking DJ Diplo discovered the group via their MySpace page in 2005, and his production on their debut LP is chirpy and cheap, full of half-raps and schoolyard chants. It’s high-fun low art, guaranteed to make even your cheesiest dance moves look awesome. AMANDA PETRUSICH

33 THE WILDHEARTS
THE WILDHEARTS

The seventh studio album from these British pop-metal lifers is their most contentious yet, best exemplified by “The Sweetest Song,” a foul-mouthed kiss-off that starts out as a hardcore anthem before revealing a disarmingly angelic na-na-na-na chorus. Much of The Wildhearts is an equally unexpected mix of hopeless romanticism and relationship-weary nihilism, with nearly every song either a death threat, a love letter, or both: It’s like a Fountains of Wayne album ghostwritten by

GG Allin—though at least that record would’ve had a shot at a Stateside release. BRIAN RAFTERY

30 BROTHER ALI UNDISPU TED TRUTH Minneapolis’ Brother Ali is everything an underground rapper oughta be: A high-spirited, pitilessly honest, socially aware civilian who can ether out fools with a flick of his wit, who can flow with as much brio as any tipsy Top 40 thug, who’s got funk and soul beats (via Atmosphere producer Ant) that bounce rather than brood, who spends more time worrying about his family than tossing bills at a pole, and who says up front: “I ain’t gotta prove to any of you / That anything I ever said is the truth / But I’m ready to do it.” C.A.

32 BLACK REBEL
MOTORCYCLE CLUB
BABY 81

A lucky 13 tracks and not a single dud among them—this may well be the year’s best bargain. Initially dubbed a Jesus and Mary Chain knockoff, the Los Angeles– based trio have finally found their druggy groove, four albums into a clove-smoke-choked career. On their most sophisticated set yet, the blooze-gaze anthems are coated in an insidiously infectious pop veneer. From the mesmeric “Berlin” to the levee-breaking “666 Conducer,” it’s time to raise a glass (drop a tab?) to the new classic rock. DOUG BROD

29 PANDA BEAR
PERSON PI TCH

You need only look at the liner notes to understand the level at which Panda Bear (né Noah Lennox) is operating: His third solo outing samples Cat Stevens, Scott Walker, and Kraftwerk, each bleeding in and out of the Animal Collective member’s dense pop dreamscapes. Yet the most otherworldly instrument on Person Pitch is Lennox’s own voice, which he inflates and contorts in the most Wilsonian ways. “Do you know what coolness really is?” he asks on “Comfy in Nautica.” It’s a taunt: Lennox knows, and you have to listen close for the answer. K.A.

TIM SO TER

35 SAY ANYTHING

IN DEFENSE OF THE GENRE Don’t let the title fool you—Say Anything frontman Max Bemis doesn’t just spend 27 (!) tracks justifying the existence of the E-word. Rather, he channels his manic-depressive spirit to build up, knock down, praise, and light ablaze the predominant rock sound of the moment. In Defense of the Genre also acts as a state-of-the-union manifesto for arrested-development twentysomethings trying to come to grips with complicated relationships (“Shiksa [Girlfriend]”) and the struggle against cynicism (“Plea”). Self-important? Sure. But smart, nonetheless. KYLE ANDERSON

34 BAT FOR LASHES
FUR AND GOLD

Not content to be merely a Björk manqué or a weirdo hippie chick, Natasha Khan channels her England-via-Narnia sensibilities through guitars, violins, and enough found percussion to give Tom Waits some ideas. Using fairy-tale imagery (magical horses, wizards) to talk about her own personal hang-ups (patriarchy, commitment), she never comes across as dishonest or cowardly. Rather, this is the sound of a young woman taking control of her own mythology, one zither riff at a time. K.A.

31 HANDSOME FURS
PLAGUE PARK

While his Wolf Parade coleader, Spencer Krug, floods the market with side projects, Dan Boeckner only needs the one—a homegrown affair that finds his wife Alexei backing his rich, vaguely Elvisy vocals and fuzzed-out guitars with sequencers and drum loops. But lest that description evoke cold, tossed-off self-indulgence, songs like “Cannot Get, Started” and “Sing! Captain” are every bit as earthy and exultant as the ones Boeckner churns out in his day job, if not more so. He doesn’t just invite you into his basement, he hands you a pillow and a big mug of tea. S.K.

28 IRON AND WINE

THE SHEPHERD’S DOG Reports of Sam Beam’s transformation from bedroom-folk ghost whisperer to full-blown ’70s rocker were somewhat exaggerated, but it’s easy to be taken aback by the fullness of The Shepherd’s Dog. Still, at the core of each dressed-up song sits the small, beautiful stillness he’s always nurtured. Whether just amping up the velocity (as on the trippy “Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car”) or indulging in some deft boogie-woogie (“The Devil Never Sleeps”), Beam still evokes the air of mystery that’s always defined him. JOSH MODELL