Men Without Pants, 'Naturally' (Expansion Team)

Jovial, tastemaking eclectics flaunt their unsafety dance.

Blues Explosion's Russell Simins and beat whiz Dan the Automator (Gorillaz, Hand- some Boy Modeling School, Deltron 3030) couldn't have picked a better name -- their sex-dappled blues-rocktronica suggests frequent pantslessness. Simins is at the helm, providing vocals, guitars, and drums on tracks both sleazy-slinky ("Superfine") and bare-bones garage-y ("Double Life").

Benji Hughes, 'A Love Extreme' (New West)

Unassuming troubadour might understand your so-called life.

A shaggily charming Los Angeles–via–North Carolina troubadour, Hughes mixes the handmade, slightly askew vibe of early Beck with observational gifts that echo Fountains of Wayne.

¡Forward, Russia!, 'Life Processes' (Mute)

Ardent Brit-rockers huff and puff with convincing flair.

This deceptively named British band's second album revisits the terrific uproar of its debut only briefly before jumping headlong into more expansive, proggier territory.

Dr. Dog, 'Fate' (Park The Van)

Way down upon the Schuylkill and Delaware rivers, far, far away...

Dr. Dog dig the old stuff. Not only does Fate, the Philly quintet's third album, have songs named "The Old Days," "Uncovering the Old," and "100 Years," but its choirboy vocals, spiky guitar solos, and splashes of blue-eyed soul evoke Smile-era Beach Boys and the Band. Heck, even Stephen Foster would tip his hat to the rickety keyboard lines and lyrics about trains.

Cansei De Ser Sexy, 'Donkey' (Sub Pop)

Brazilian indie funk for your vintage steamer trunk.

Cansei De Ser Sexy consider ecstatic revelry more an imperative than a choice: "We didn't come into the world to walk around," seethes frontwoman Lovefoxxx on "Jager Joga," the opening cut from the São Paulo band's sophomore LP. "We came here to take you out!" Her voice demands hijinks.

Broken Social Scene Presents: Brendan Canning, 'Something for All of Us...' (Arts&Crafts)

Side project soars like original, but gets lost in the clouds.

Among the many reasons to love Broken Social Scene is the fact that no matter how over-heated the 20-plus-member Canadian legion's kitchen-sink anthems get, they're iced in a dreamy shoegaze coating.

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