The Aliens Astronomy for Dogs ½ ITUNES MYSPACE Scottish pop’s original spaceman reunites with his crew

While Beta Band’s electronica-tinged, late-’90s psychedelic pop was influencing Oasis and Radiohead alike, founding member Gordon Anderson underwent shock therapy. Now he’s fronting a trio completed by Beta alumni that’s even trippier, poppier, heavier, and more experimental. Bouncy bits assert Anderson’s improved mental health (“The Happy Song”), but there are also astoundingly poignant passages (“She Don’t Love Me No More”) where rough harmonies and vibrant tunes reveal the fragile

soul behind the freak-outs. Seldom do aural hallucinations feel this triumphant—or this real. BARRY WALTERS

A-Trak Dirty South Dance MYSPACE Throwing some cleverly remixed D’s on that bitch!

Sure, “Vocal A meets Music B” DJ blends are tossed-off gimmicks most of the time, but in those rare moments when the gimmick clicks, the party immediately kicks into another gear. Whether reconfiguring Clipse’s “Wamp Wamp” into cocky, high-stepping disco or putting a fizzy finish on Baby and Lil Wayne, this former turntablist prodigy and current

Kanye West tour DJ blends rap and pop a cappellas over electro-house backing tracks so seamlessly that the results feel more like gifts than goofs. MICHAELANGELO MATOS

Bad Brains Build a Nation ½ ITUNES MYSPACE Hardcore’s godfathers come back, avoid embarrassment

After a decade of seminal albums, mythic shows, and erratic behavior (the ’80s) and a decade of dud albums, spotty shows, and erratic behavior (the ’90s), Bad Brains were unlikely reunion candidates. Yet Build a Nation roars and throbs with vintage fire. H.R.’s vocals,

dub-echoed and buried, sound like they’re transmitted from Olympus. The band’s reggae has improved mightily, though it remains (Jah forgive me) too much like the narrative bits in porn movies; and the punk burners (“Pure Love,” “Let There Be Angels [Just Like You]”) are their most furious since I Against I. Still the only band ever to make thrash swing like Basie. JOE GROSS

being made largely outside of the media spotlight. He focuses on tinny handclaps, skittering breaks, singsong chants (“Shake It to the Ground”), spurts of synth spritz (“Check Me Out Like”), and vocals that, even when polished (as on “ Rock-starrz”), have the same go-for-it feel as the rough-and-ready beats. MICHAELANGELO MATOS

Meet your
guides on the
Via Dolorosa.

A Band of Bees Octopus ½ ITUNES MYSPACE Masterfully rummaging through a big sack of styles

Recorded in their home studio on Britain’s Isle of Wight, the six-piece Bees’ third album is the product of a joyously short attention span. Suggesting a vintage various-artists collection rather than the work of a single band, the charming Octopus flits easily from a drunken slide-guitar shuffle (“Who Cares What the Question Is?”) to drowsy folk rock (“The Ocularist”) to brooding ska reminiscent of the Specials (“Stand”). Don’t be fooled by the fuzzy, seemingly offhand vocals: The Bees are one crafty outfit. JON YOUNG

Blue Scholars Bayani ITUNES MYSPACE Indie-rap duo campaign on a conscious platform

On their second full-length, Seattle’s Blue Scholars try to promote hip-hop’s potential for personal transformation and political change, dedicating songs to soldiers in Iraq (“Back Home”) and protesters at the 1999 WTO demonstrations (“ 50 Thousand Deep”). Referencing brown rice and embattled working-class communities in equal dollops, the provocative lyrics of soft-spoken yet persistent MC Geologic don’t always match up with DJ/producer Sabzi’s rangy keyboard-and-bass beats. But when Sabzi creates a musical backdrop worthy of his partner’s insights, like on the neo-G-funk of “Loyalty,” the results are sublime. MOSI REEVES

Still Ill
New York’s dapper devotees of doom resist a shift in style
Interpol
Our Love to Admire
ITUNES MYSPACE

“Babe, it’s time we gave something new a try,” Paul Banks sings on “No I in Threesome,” a surprisingly amorous track from Interpol’s third album. He must just be talking about sex, because once you hear the music running underneath—crisp drumbeats, chugging bass, tightly controlled guitar lines—it’s obvious the band will not be shifting its sound abruptly on Our Love to

Admire. Play a random snippet to anyone vaguely familiar with such shades-drawn dance numbers as “PDA” and “Evil,” and they’ll easily guess who’s behind it. Well, maybe your mom wouldn’t know, but then

It’s a transitional
record by a band not
yet willing to let go.

Beastie Boys The Mix-Up ½ ITUNES MYSPACE Medeski Martin & Wood fans should be thrilled

Beastie Boys have been casting about for nearly a decade, trying to figure out what to do for their career’s third act. This all-instrumental album feels less like a redefinition than a placeholder until they think of something better. Which isn’t to say it’s a dud: Shuffling, New Orleans funk and murky, spaced-out dub are flavored with hints of Nuggets-era acid rock, blaxploitation soul, and Afrika Bambaataa–inspired drum breaks. The Mix-Up never sounds simply like a Beasties album with nobody rhyming on it, but it’s slight and, even at its liveliest, inconsequential. DAVID PEISNER

Bonde Do Role With Lasers ITUNES MYSPACE Brazilian brats rock nasty rhymes—pandemonium ensues

Does “world music” make you drool—and not in the good way? Bonde Do Role feel your pain. This Brazilian trio’s debut laces lascivious lyrics through chassis-shaking rhythms, rubbing up against everyone from Bow Wow Wow (“Solta O Frango”) to Black Sabbath (“James Bonde”). “Geremia” adds riotously expert kazoo to the mix, but the disc’s secret weapon is ace guitar work: Eddie Van Halen–style hammering powers “Danca Do Zumbi,” while Johnny Ramone–like crunching ignites “Office Boy,” the best song ever about queuing up. SHANNON ZIMMERMAN

again, she never got past the
Joy Division comparisons.

That’s not to say that Admire is unadventurous; however, for every song that cautiously introduces a new element, two more adhere steadfastly to the band’s

dread-pop model. The best moments meet somewhere in between: The insistent “Pace Is the Trick” opens with Banks’ voice hovering, almost like a spectral effect, before gradually returning to earth, its descent cushioned by muscular riffing and delicate keyboards. Spindled guitars and ominous church-bell chimes create a tense, spaghetti-western backdrop for “The Lighthouse.” A few more similarly unexpected turns would have been welcome. But Admire feels oddly reined in, a transitional record by a band not yet willing to completely let go of the past. BRIAN RAF TERY

DJ Blaqstarr Supastarr EP ½ ITUNES MYSPACE Dancing the pain away with the new B-more generation

This collection of seven tracks by Baltimore upstart Blaqstarr (on Philadelphia DJ Diplo’s new label) serves as a good example of the raw, exuberant club music

The Bugs …The Bugs ½ MYSPACE Portland dudes keep garage rock lovably dim-witted

After nearly a decade of summoning Buzzcocks and Daniel

JELLE WAGENAAR/COURTES Y PRESS HERE