bender and police beatdown, then staggers forward with angry self-pity and existential black humor, but ultimately his naked humanity wins you over. For the past six albums, the Scottish duo Arab Strap have embodied this ethos in their pensive, beatbox-driven musings; and their career-capping collection of B-sides, outtakes, and early singles (“The First Big Weekend”) is a perfect walking map of malaise. J. NIIMI

voice never so triumphant. Apparently, what doesn’t kill you makes you rock a lot harder. JOE GROSS

because of the cameos by their famous friends: Tom Waits growling (“Pray”), Jon Langford sneering (“Boomtown”), Mike Watt reciting in deadpan (“Pedro to Cleveland”). Also heed their smarts (imagine an earthier Mars Volta), Carla Kihlstedt’s sweet vocals, and the desperate-times-in-the-Midwest theme that trumps John Mellencamp’s retread Chevy-truck scenarios. JASON GROSS

Blonde
Redhead:
Not OK
Computer

The Academy Is…
Santi
ITUNES MYSPACE
Promising Chicago rockers
try to fix what ain’t broke
Ah, the career makeover. It’s
always a risky move, especially
when you’re onto something
that doesn’t really need improv-
ing. Unfortunately, the follow-
up to this beloved emo troop’s
outstanding 2005 debut ditches
the band’s instantly memorable
hooks and embraces a new
group of apparent idols. There
are awkward attempts at the
strutting pomp rock of Queen

(“Neighbors”), the pop reggae of the Police (“Seed”), and the wardrobe of the Strokes. Next time, fellas, maybe just stick to the leather blazers, because there’s not much else here that’s working for you. TREVOR KELLEY

Big Business
Here Come the
Waterworks
ITUNES MYSPACE
Achieving max heaviness, after
studying with the masters
One hundred percent of this
wrecking crew—bassist/
screamer Jared Warren (ex–
Karp and Tight Bros From
Way Back When) and drummer
Coady Willis (ex–Murder City
Devils)—are currently serving
time in the Melvins, a band
that never met a sideman it
couldn’t drive crazy, then fire.
Assume that the album’s title
mocks any stress they might be
feeling, but playing with sludge
gods 20 years their senior has
been invaluable for the duo’s
own fierce exchanges. Warren
and Willis’ thunder-prog has
never sounded so fully formed
and abrasive, and Warren’s

Blonde Redhead
23 ⁵
ITUNES MYSPACE
New Yorkers lose their edge
with overheated ambience
Cranking up the synths and
dialing down the tension, this
New York Sicilian-Japanese
post-punk trio continues its
slow-burn, 14-year procession
away from harsh guitar atmos-
pherics to mere atmosphere.
While a goopy, space-rock mix
can’t quite dampen the title
track’s propulsive thrum, ulti-
mately the song says “car ad”
more than “star voyage.” Kazu
Makino’s wood-sprite voice still
shimmers, but Amedeo Pace’s
wailing, overemotive tenor
invites the mess of Blonde
Radiohead jokes the band will
inevitably receive. JOE GROSS

 

Arab Strap
Ten Years of Tears
AMAZON MYSPACE
Indie poppers go out on a
perfectly depressing note
In James Kelman’s novel How
Late It Was, How Late, the foul-
mouthed Glaswegian narrator
wakes up blind after a king-hell

Book of Knots
Traineater ⁵
ITUNES MYSPACE
All-star Americana collective
delves deep into despair
Don’t just take note of this
doomy Brooklyn art-rock
combo (featuring members of
Skeleton Key, Sleepytime
Gorilla Museum, and Pere Ubu)

Brother Ali
The Undisputed
Truth
ITUNES MYSPACE
Indie hip-hop’s uncommon
everyman takes no guff
As befits an albino Muslim MC,
this Minneapolis stalwart sets
out to embody apparent con-
tradictions. But the “thugged-
out nerd” who peppers battle
raps with Koranic wisdom is
something way sexier and
smarter than the “Howard Stern
meets Howard Zinn” hybrid he
suggests. He’s a doting dad who
bristles with electric decency at
everyday injustice and crows
that “for me, ‘not broke’ is rich.”
Producer Ant perfectly under-
scores Ali’s gruff cadence,
simultaneously self-assured
and stressed, with a melodic
lope that scrunches soul vocals
underneath loops of bluesy
guitar. KEI TH HARRIS

Got to Give It Up
Nick Cave desperately wants to spread his bad seed
To all the girls they
haven’t loved before

Grinderman Grinderman ITUNES MYSPACE

Attention, ladies: Nick Cave’s got the “No Pussy Blues.” “I sent her every type of flower / I played her guitar by the hour / I patted her revolting little Chihuahua,” the blues-punk bard howls on the debut of his new band, Grinderman. “But still she just didn’t want to.” Cave’s cold comfort of choice? The loin-rat-tling noise that he’s deprived himself of while attempting to become his generation’s Leonard Cohen.

it’s great to see him back in a bar band, baby. Diverted from his ongoing search for salvation, Cave channels the primal misanthropy he explored ³⁰ years ago with the Birthday Party in breakneck scuzz-fuzz freak-outs like “Depth Charge Ethel” and “Get It On,” where the singer promises “some words of wisdom,” then just doggedly repeats the song’s title.

He mocks and pays tribute
to outsize machismo.

Grinderman documents the quick-and-dirty fury that Cave and three Bad Seeds (violinist Warren Ellis, bassist Martyn Casey, and drummer Jim Sclavunos) laid down in a week-long session at a London studio, and to paraphrase the Hold Steady,

The result is one of Cave’s hard-est-rocking records, but also one of his funniest. “He drank panther piss and fucked the girls you’re probably married to,” he spits at one point, mocking but also paying tribute to the outsize machismo that inspired PJ Harvey to write “50ft Queenie.” Expect an opera next year to pay penance for this. MIKAEL WOOD

FROM TOP: SEBASTIAN MLYNARSKI/COURTESY 4AD; STEVE GULLICK/COURTESY EPITAPH

 

²⁴ APRIL ²⁰⁰⁷ WWW.SPIN.COM