Manu Chao, 'La Radiolina' (Nacional/ Because)
Paris-born, Barcelona-based Manu Chao has always been a traveler, roaming the U.K. to pick up punk, heading to Central America to immerse himself in salsa. The premise of 2001's Próxima Estación: Esperanza -- Chao moving casually between styles and languages as radio static smoothed the transitions -- was apt.
SHARE THIS:
Rogue Wave, 'Asleep at Heaven's Gate' (Brushfire)
After crafting two gorgeously understated Sub Pop albums that languished, this Oakland quartet teams with Yo La Tengo producer Roger Moutenot to create a make-or-break manifesto (on Jack Johnson's label!) that often trumps indie rock's big-leaguers. Intensifying the light and shade of his tunes with finely detailed psychedelia, leader Zach Rogue picks up the alternative pop gauntlet R.E.M.
SHARE THIS:
Devendra Banhart, 'Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon' (XL)
Much of Devendra Banhart's appeal since his emergence in 2002 has had to do with the ways in which he's been able to convince us that he's not just a standard-issue dirty hippie: Consider the flamenco-flecked folk songs on 2005's Cripple Crow or the singer's bizarro gossip-column dalliances with Lindsay Lohan.
SHARE THIS:
Animal Collective, 'Strawberry Jam' (Domino)
The eighth studio album from these folk-pop weirdos opens with 25 seconds of squelchy insectoid chatter that comes off as willfully annoying. Then the noise resolves into a chunky electro-throb that forms the basis of a fine summertime pop tune, featuring samples of monster movies, words like "broccoli," and a chorus woven from the cheery sounds of steel drums.
SHARE THIS:
October 2007
October's mix of 15 Spin-approved tunes runs the gamut; from the petulant lyrics of songsmith Cass McCombs' "Crick My Neck" and the garage rock twang of Black Lips' "O Katrina," to the orchestral narrations of Jens Lekman's "Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo," to the erratic rhythms of Celebration's "Pony." Looking for something in between?
SHARE THIS:
Punk Reunion: New York
Like a mushroom on a pile of shit, punk came up in one of New York City's foulest periods. Probably no other era could have produced it: Urban decay and lawlessness made Lower Manhattan a cheap place to live, and the desperate street vibe -- combined with the art community's down-forwhatever attitude -- made for take-no-prisoners music. Punk would spread around the world, mutating as it went.




