Ladyhawk, 'Shots' (Jagjaguwar)

Rescuing a beleaguered genre from its jam-band kidnappers.

On its long, cold journey to Ladyhawk's home in southern Canada, Southern rock took comfort in melancholy, stopped in Kentucky to get some tips from My Morning Jacket, and lost most of its swagger.

No Kids, 'Come Into My House' (Tomlab)

Is it time for an embargo on orchestral pop from Canada?

No Kids feature three members of Vancouver's P:ano, and the lo-fi indie-pop songs on their debut album are fairly indistinguishable in tone and execution to those on their previous band's three full-lengths.

These New Puritans, 'Beat Pyramid' (Domino)

Pesky U.K. kids worship the purity of "The Perfect Kiss".

Drums that can't decide between the dance floor and art school, guitars that flicker and nod versus a bassist futzing between smooth rhythm and chunky riffs, a stock-still gal punching buttons, and a singer whose ranting may or may not mean something. These New Puritans prove the model perfected by New Order ain't dying anytime soon.

Dead Child, 'Attack' (Quarterstick)

Is that Number of the Beast tattoo permanent or temporary?

It's tempting but ultimately wrong to view Dead Child's Attack -- straightforward classic Brit-metal played by pedigreed American indie rockers -- as a tongue-in-cheek parody. The hearts of these Louisville vets (most notably Tortoise and Slint alumnus David Pajo) seem to pump actual hesher blood.

Crystal Castles, 'Crystal Castles' (Last Gang)

Eight-bit bleeps and crazed cackles transcend novelty.

This Toronto duo conjure synthesizer disco from nostalgic Nintendo bliss, with Ethan Kath floating ancient video-game melodies over bewitching rhythm tracks ("Knights," "Magic Spells"). His hooky charms ease the ferocity of singer Alice Glass' panting wails and loopy, sarcastic screams.

Sian Alice Group, '59.59' (The Social Registry)

London multi-instrumentalists construct a hypnotic universe.

Sian Alice Group spend a good chunk of their debut full-length gradually building a mood, circling around their songs rather than tackling them head-on. When pop structure interrupts the soundtrack-y vibe, it's modestly and briefly, as if too much of singer Sian Ahern's sad, smoky voice would lessen the mystery.

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