The ten tracks offered on this EP see these UK electronic alchemists opting for refining and combining their previous sonic elixirs, rather than conjuring something altogether new. And the results are pretty damn good. Those expecting the abstract, glitch-frenzied madness of 2001’s amazing Confield will notice immediately how straight forward some of the beats are here. Tracks like “M62” and “Y7” are constructed on a steady, four-on-the-floor pulse, yet Autechre only use this decidedly accessible meter as a backbone for a concise, complex symphony of writhing analog synths, dizzying melodic interplay and masterful, layered production. Still, this is far from Daft Punk. Listeners pining for something a tad more obfuscated have the lead off track, “Etchogon-S,” which sounds like a drum machine gone completely haywire inside an echo chamber while 8-bit icicles come crashing down atop that giant floor piano in the movie Big. Thankfully, Autehcre’s keen ear for atmosphere is stronger than ever; Move of Ten feels icy, dark and foreboding, yet the songs are catchy, groovy and utterly alluring. This delicate balance is what makes Autechre among the best, and Move of Ten a fantastic album. Repeated listens and headphones are a must. (Warp Records, www.warp.net) Curran Faris

So I finally sat down with my good set of headphones and a vinyl copy of this record when I had some time to myself. I dropped the needle on the band’s full-length debut and lay back with the liner notes as these three Londoners were firing through “Year’s not Long,” already one of my favourite songs of the year with its major scale hooks and furious sixteenth note strumming. In the midst of guitar noise, reverb settings stolen from Abe Vigoda, double time drums, half time drums, and inprecise chord changes, you can catch that almost all of John Arthur Webb’s lyrics are about temporality, living in the moment, etc. etc., which gives the whole of Nothing Hurts that arty and poetic edge. Unfolding the liner notes, I discovered a huge photo of the three stylish guys looking up at the camera and the name Male Bonding splashed under them. Right then and there I wanted to scotch tape it to my wall and scream along for weeks on end. (Sub Pop, www.subpop.com) Taylor Burgess

New York, New York’s Endless Boogie is one of the most aptly named bands around today. Forget obtuse band names like Animal Collective (no animals playing instruments—big disappointment) or Japandroids. (What? Not even a word.) Endless Boogie aim to deliver exactly what their name implies—Boogie, in the quantity of Endless. This is primarily achieved by taking one or two guitars and having the first slam out some heavy bluesy guitar riffs, full of Boogie, and then repeating them into damn nigh eternity, hence the achievement of Endless. Then, halfway through most songs, the second guitar snaps into the forefront, in full Wank mode, lending some Endless solos too. The guitars are the star of this picture based on their presence alone. They are so all-encompassing you barely notice the competent, albeit complacent rhythm section, which anchors down a beat for the guitars to wail over. The vocals are growled or hurled out seemingly as an afterthought. From what I can tell, they are mostly about pie (“Mighty Fine Pie”) and having good times (“All Other Songs”). Pleasant enough, given that you love electric blues and take the term “Endless” as a good thing. (No Quarter) David Nowacki

Overlords of all things heavy and riffy return with their proper follow-up to 2008’s excellent Nude With Boots. In case you haven’t been paying attention, this is the third record that wizard-haired front man Buzz Osbourne and god of thunder Dale Crover have churned out with the heavy-hitting rhythm section of Big Business. The two-drummers-on-one-massive-drumset formula has been perfected here, with Crover and Willis no longer merely trading fills but somehow sounding like one superhuman drummer: syncopated, complex and unstoppable. But something just isn’t sitting right with me on this record. The Melvins have been around forever and have rarely missed the mark – unless they’ve missed it on purpose. (Prick anyone?) While The Bride Screamed Murder has it’s share of bangers, Buzz and the boys let their bizarre sense of humour loose a bit too often here. The military march, call-and-response of “The Water Glass” is interesting, once, while the 8-minute version of “My Generation” is just awful. But, if you’re a Melvins fan, you know that every once and a while they mix in some self-indulgent silliness amidst some of the greatest riff-rock ever written. It’s a price that must be paid. (Ipecac Recordings) Curran Faris

The great thing about I Will Be is that there isn’t anything wrong with it. Basically, it’s full of Shangri-Las-style harmonies sung at the Ramones’ speed, with band leader Dee Dee singing lyrics almost always including the word “baby.” Perfect. This debut album from the L.A. librarian is another home-recording-project-gone-big, like Little Girls’ Concepts or Wavves’ Wavvves, but whereas those two albums sometimes got too caught up in their own self-importance or post-punk influences (Joy Division and Wipers respectively), I Will Be is just ten tracks of straight-ahead pop, and one ballad cover of Sonny Bono to finish off the disc. The not-so-great thing about I Will Be is that if there are any songs to be called ‘stand-out tracks,’ they only stand out incrementally from the others. “Jail La La” and “Blank Girl” are two of the catchiest in the bunch, but they’ve got the same basic drumbeat and the same chords as every other song. But if you like music like ’70s punk bands and ’60s girl groups is that really going to deter you anyways? (Sub Pop Records, www.subpop.com) Taylor Burgess

Dr. Dog’s sixth album in many ways feels like an album of firsts. In addition to it being their first album under the Anti- umbrella, it is also the first album to not be produced by the band themselves, instead relying on an outside producer. While sometimes this can cause problems, it is not the case this time around. The album feels more focused and to the point, removing some of the excesses that bogged down their previous albums. There are no psychedelic soundscapes to distract you as you listen to the album, allowing you to pay attention to the music. And the music that Dr. Dog makes is great. They’ve always sounded like a band from the late 1960s that entered a time machine and started recording today, and they still keep that sound on the album. You still get great harmonies from Toby Leaman and Scott McMicken mixed with songs that feel drawn from real life, and backing music to tie it all together in an enjoyable package. Fans of Brian Wilson, Spoon, and Novillero will find the most enjoyment in this album. (Anti-, www.anti.com) Charles Lefebvre

With the return of musical legend Mose Allison to recording after a dozen year absence the world can almost be considered a slightly more refined place. With his place in musical history firmly established two generations or more ago he has returned to recording not with a flourish but with his usual skill, aplomb and of course, humour. The Way of the World finds the august piano man working with a rootsy combo that stays out of the way of the architect allowing him just enough able support to make every song take on a distinct personality of it’s own. Opening with the cute “My Brain” replete with its acquired “My Babe” blues arrangement, Allison begins the set with a journeyman’s skill and wit. Is it jazz? Is it blues with a feeling? You will be the judge but with the added credibility of his songs being covered over the years by the Who, the Clash, Leon Russell, Blue Cheer and Van Morrison you know you are heading for the ground zero of cool iconoclasts. A most enjoyable album that commands respect and even reverence, The Way of the World is a poignant yet carefree statement from a master not yet lost to the ages. (Anti-, www.anti.com) Jeff Monk

Instead of boring you with the standard-issue disc review usually presented here, and since this new, long-awaited Archie Bronson Outfit album is just so darn entertaining, I have chosen to break down my thoughts into easily digestible chunks. Let us know your thoughts in the usual fashion. This will give allow you to get back to texting quicker.
• The grinding sonic plunge of opening track “Magnetic Warrior” is just that.
• Classic Echo and the Bunnymen pop meet Jesus and Mary Chain danger-fuzz.
• Interesting, clank arrangements that marry a somewhat jarring intensity with nervous beats and hazy vocals yelping rather preposterous lyrics.
• “Wild Strawberries” = echoed menace roiling… high note bass smacks!
• A dissonance of sound that skirts the danger zone between pop and distorted, angry indie-rock.
• “Chuck” is Echo and the B’men for a new generation, chock full of single note guitar and blind bass pulsation designed to stick in your memory.
• Fans of the older school will cherish the herky twitch of the ABO’ style
• The only quasi-ballad in the set is called “Hunt You Down.” Love as an attack.
(Domino, www.dominorecordco.com) Jeff Monk

With I Speak Fula, the Malian Ngoni lute player Bassekou Kouyate has put together a confident and precise collection of songs that ought to be heard by both those familiar and unfamiliar with the West African sound. This is evangelical music at its best, as Kouyate, backed by his band Ngoni Ba, do well in bringing traditional West African motifs and typical western sounds into conversation with one another, such that his music is ripe for the masses. The songs found throughout the record are equal parts African Highlife and American dessert blues, resulting in a fascinating fusion of sound that avoids doing violence to the genres at play. Kouyate clearly has the utmost respect for the genres he’s working with, and the performances throughout the record excel as a result. Highlights would include the trance-like “Jamana Be Diya” featuring Kasse Mady and Toumani Diabete and the wah-wah driven “Musow,” which at moments sounds like straight-up rock and roll. Considering the increased interest in the “African sound” among recent Western rock and pop bands (Vampire Weekend, Dirty Projectors et al.). I Speak Fula proves to be both a beautiful and timely record, tapping into the Western musical conscious, simply by paying due tribute to the traditional forms of West Africa. (Sub Pop, www.subpop.com) Jeff Friesen

I’ve been told that a live album is usually the wrongest way possible to get introduced to a band (the Who’s Live at Leeds perhaps being the exception). So this band, this bunch of old, English punkers, release this platter I’m holding and hearing, and I like it a lot. Very much the jam-style rock plus the Fall’s repetition and abrasiveness (plus sung by a guy who can keep a solid tone). They’ve got their three chorders like “Viva la Rock ’n’ Roll” (which sounds more evil than pop) and “Urban Kids” and a whole whack of others that wouldn’t be outta place among the Buzzcocks and banks of their kind. Y’know, snotty and fun. Their run-throughs of the Ramones’ “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue” and their piss on “Louie Louie,” titled “Plastic People,” is spit out and played with that middle-finger-up barre chord sass that punk used to be about. There are some longer songs that show another side of the band, a noisier, experimental, avant garde band that played how they wanted to play. “Release the Natives” is  bleak, Glenn Branca-style guitar noise. “Splitting in Two,” this one too surpassing the six-minute mark, builds for a few minutes before exploding into a Mission of Burma-like rock assault. This live album, full of tape hiss and audible audience chatter, captures a band lighting fires on whatever stage they play. Shit, man, if this is how these geezers sound now, I’m gonna step into the wayback machine and hear how they sounded before I was born. If anyone ever tells you that the live album intro is the wrong way to go, slap ’em across the head with this one. (Bongobeat, www.bongobeat.com) Patrick Michalishyn