Gang Gang Dance "Sacer"

It was somewhat shocking for me to realize that this song has proper lyrics, and in English, no less. Lizzi Bougatsos' voice on this track is high-pitched and just about incomprehensible -- she conveys of feeling in her melody, but words don't quite form even though they are apparently in there somewhere. The approach to the vocals is very Cocteau Twins, but the mood of the piece is harder to peg. (Sean T. Collins compares the song to T'Pau, but I don't really hear that. He's right on about the "secret language of adult glamour" thing, though.) I like that the song doesn't really give you much solid ground and manages to be very specific and maddeningly vague at the same time. This music evokes a feeling of great relief, so why do I find myself thinking a lot of anxious thoughts every time I put it on? Buy it from Amazon.

Cliffie Swan "Dream Chain"

Sophia Knapp, the lead singer of Cliffie Swan, has a very old-fashioned sort of voice. It's overtly feminine but not remotely wispy and light, and confident without being particularly brassy or bold. It's just this lovely, right-down-the-middle tone, with phrasing that perfectly articulates the melody without embellishment. She sounds like the kind of lady who takes karaoke very, very seriously and decided to write an album full of the type of tuneful, wistful 70s soft pop, classic rock and country that she loves to sing. "Dream Chain" is particularly great as a showcase for her voice, and very well crafted. It feels immediately comfortable and familiar, but the dynamic shifts are clever enough that it doesn't come across as flat or predictable. Buy it from Amazon.

Sebadoh "Punching Myself in the Face Repeatedly, Publicly"

1. "I was “way into” Tara [Jane O’Neil] from Rodan and followed her around smitten for a while until she remembered that she was a lesbian. Oops." - Jason Loewenstein, in the liner notes to the reissue of Bakesale. 2. It's pretty obvious that this title was applied retroactively. Even if I didn't know that this song is being addressed to a lesbian and that things definitely didn't work out, there is no way I could listen to this earnest outpouring of crushed-out enthusiasm without knowing that the singer is doomed, doomed, doomed. It's not that he's got a crush -- obviously that works out for people. It's in what he says, how he says it. All the signs are there but he's blind to it, even though the lyrics indicate some degree of self-awareness. I recognize too much in this song; listening to it is like watching a horror movie. 3. Or maybe it's more like reading someone's email. It's so specific, so naked. I feel like I'm invading his privacy by listening. 4. What really makes this compelling is how nervous and excited he sounds. It's all so genuine. I just listen to this and think "Noooooooo, Jason, nooooooo!" Buy it from Amazon.

Shabazz Palaces "Are You...Can You...Were You? (Felt)"

"Are You...Can You...Were You? (Felt)" doesn't sound much like a rap track at first. The first minute is pure atmosphere, a contemplative instrumental that sets up some subtle musical themes for the remainder of the piece. From there, the song moves along in a slow, lateral progression pushed along by a shifting series of keyboard samples. In most rap songs, there is a rigid structure to facilitate rhymes -- 16 bars verses, a chorus, maybe an intro and an outro. Maybe once in a while you get something like a bridge, but it's usually quite utilitarian in form. Shabazz Palaces don't follow these usual patterns at all. Ishmael Butler's raps follow the tangents of the music -- his words and presence are crucial, but he's not necessarily the focal point of the track. Rap is a genre that tends to emphasize ego, but there's a great humility in how Butler interacts with the music on Shabazz Palace's Black Up. He doesn't crowd anything out, he follows the lead of the other "players," so to speak. He knows when to keep quiet. None of this is unprecedented, just sort of rare. Black Up is a record that truly embraces the possibilities of rap in a way that isn't stuffy or ostentatious. It just does its own thing and leaves you wondering why there isn't more hip hop out there that is similarly adventurous in form. Particular to "Are You...," I wonder why there isn't more rap that be accurately described as pensive and meditative. Buy it from Amazon.

Inc. "Swear"

You know how sometimes when a headphone plug is only partly in the jack you can hear a hollowed-out, ghostly version of a song? Inc.'s "Swear" sounds a little bit like doing that trick with a late '80s Prince or Jimmy Jam/Terry Lewis track. The biggest difference is in the vocals -- the phrasing is about what you'd expect from the music, but it comes out sounding extremely shy. It's like a My Bloody Valent version of the Minneapolis sound -- accompaniment is foregrounded, and the voice becomes a textural element that suggests intimacy and intense yet muted emotions. Pre-order it from 4AD.

Austra "Shoot the Water"

Austra's Katie Stelmanis has a theatrical, gothy affect, and so it's pretty much impossible to hear her sing "I want your blood" without thinking of lusty vampires and sexually charged occult ceremonies. This is fine by me. I love the way "Shoot the Water" revels in its spookiness; it's like an elaborate masquerade party or an arty horror film that finds more thrill in sexual transgression than in straight-up violence and gore. The lyrics just barely sketch out some ideas and themes, but that's not necessarily a problem -- in terms of mood and emotion, this comes together rather intuitively. Buy it from Amazon.

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks "Senator"

Stephen Malkmus has never been the type to write "political" songs, though he's flirted with the notion in the recent past, most notably on the Real Emotional Trash bonus track "Pennywhistle Thunder." When politics come up in his songs, it's mostly a tongue-in-cheek comment on corruption and foibles. That's certainly the case for "Senator," a tune that hints at some heavy concerns but comes to a cynical conclusion in its big hook: "I know what the senator wants / what the senator wants is a blowjob." And then, later: "I know what everyone wants / what everyone wants is a blowjob." In other words: We all just want our own petty gratification. The assholes in charge aren't any different from the rest of us, for the most part. The song is basically a smirk and a shrug set to a miniature rock epic. Pre-order it from Matador Records.

Cults "Bad Things"

Madeline Follin's voice is high and extremely girlish, Brian Oblivion's arrangements are perky, bright and obviously indebted to a more innocent era of pop. Their first album as Cults can get extremely twee, sometimes aggravatingly precious. What makes the record work is that the two find ways to subvert their youthful sound, or at least add a touch of darkness to songs that would be little more than adorably melodramatic in lesser hand. "Bad Things," my favorite song from the album, really creeps me out. It's very catchy and sounds sweet, but when I hear it, I just expect something incredibly bad to happen to its protagonist. There's something very portentous about this track -- that I can't quite piece together a narrative but feel sure of the subtext only intensifies my feeling of "ahhhh, no!" when I hear Follin's tiny voice sing "I'm gonna run away and never come back." Buy it from Amazon.

Lovelle featuring Lady Chann "Uh-Oh"

"Uh-Oh" is a loud, busy, aggressive track, but there's still enough space within the composition to allow for a pleasant lightness at the center of the clatter. This is the type of song that hops from hook to hook so seamlessly that it makes other pop songs seem like they aren't giving you as much. If you think of a pop song as a pleasure delivery system -- and a lot of them are basically just that -- "Uh-Oh" offers a ridiculous amount of value in just over three minutes. I love this as-is, but I find myself wishing that Rihanna had recorded it instead so it had a chance at being a big hit in the United States.

SebastiAn featuring Mayer Hawthorne "Love In Motion"

I think of this track as being like a freebase version of Prince and Michael Jackson. The subtlety is lost and everything is intensified -- sexuality becomes sleaze, rhythm and bass is exaggerated to the point of sounding monumental, structure is reduced to a steady series of overpowering highs. The amazing thing isn't just that these guys can take this familiar pop feeling and distill it to its most potent features, but that in doing so they still hold on to elegance and grace. This is some wonderfully sexy and luxurious dance pop. Buy it from Amazon.