Shape of Broad Minds, 'Craft of the Lost Art' (Lex)

Is this underground beatmaker a possible successor to Dilla?

Craft of the Lost Art is essentially a showcase for the formidable talents of Philly-based producer Jneiro Jarel. Layering handclaps over a whirling dervish of guitars on "OPR8R" and pumping out squelchy glitch-funk for "Lullabanger," he blends hip-hop and electronics with a fresh style reminiscent of Madlib and J Dilla at their abstract best.

Enter Shikari, 'Take to the Skies' (Ambush Reality)

The sound of a million glow sticks being used as weapons.

Where similar U.S. synth-core units like Horse the Band shuck mass appeal through atonality, England's Enter Shikari have no interest in staying obscure. On their debut album, the Internet-storming quartet wed hardcore punk's most crowd-rallying elements -- intense breakdowns and gang vocals -- to the melodic buildup of that most populist of dance genres, trance.

The Virgins

Manhattan party boys charm with their soul-dusted indie rock.

Cass McCombs, 'Dropping the Writ' (Domino)

Magpie songwriter anxiously pays tribute to his indie peers.

Cass McCombs' third album wrestles Devendra Banhart's methodical mystery, the Sea and Cake's jazzy smoothness, and straight-ahead '70s Cali pop into one scattered, restless package. Insistent album opener "Lionkiller" flies the psych-folk flag both lyrically and vocally, with McCombs barking, "I am called Scorpio" in the midst of a twisted autobiography.

Small Sins, 'Mood Swings' (Astralwerks)

Imagine what would happen if Ben Gibbard really went postal.

On his 2006 debut as Small Sins, Thomas D'Arcy set his lovelorn laments to Moog-filled, Postal Service pop. Here, the Toronto native employs the same mid-tempo drum-machine beats and steady synths, but behind the warm electro purrs, he's gone from bummed to bellicose.

Siouxsie, 'Mantaray' (Decca)

The Ice Queen's solo debut throbs with hypnotic style.

After reigning over the Banshees and the Creatures for three decades, punk's newly divorced, 50-year-old leading lady goes it alone, exclaiming, "I feel a force I've never felt before" on the swaggering dance-club slayer "Into a Swan." She never lets up, turning Mantaray's vibrant emotional current of noirish cabaret slinkiness ("Drone Zone"), industrial-tinged languor ("Loveless"), and

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