The Academy is..., 'Fast Times at Barrington High' (Decaydance/Fueled by Ramen)

Watch your back, Fall Out Boy -- a new guyliner sheriff's in town.

While the title indicates achingly post-ironic '80s nostalgia, Fast Times at Barrington High is giddily indiscriminate in using pop-culture references ("His Girl Friday," "Paper Chase") to articulate its postadolescent concerns. Cleverly exploiting this sidestep of lyrical intimacy, the Academy Is... slap together 43 minutes of remarkably refreshing power pop.

Nikka Costa, 'Pebble to a Pearl' (Gofunkyourself/Stax)

Los Angeles soul sprite gives fresh kick to tired R&B tropes.

Having paired with future Amy Winehouse producer Mark Ronson back in 2001, this Prince-approved dynamo is so ahead of the white-chick, retro-soul bandwagon that she's already celebrating her freedom from major-label shackles.

The Pretenders, 'Break Up the Concrete' (Shangri-La)

Rock's pissy goddess takes off the stilettos and gets her feet dirty.

Chrissie Hynde has lived in London for the past three decades, yet Breaking Up the Concrete, her band's ninth album, has deep roots in thorny American '50s rock'n'roll and seditious rockabilly rave-ups.

Oasis, 'Dig Out Your Soul' (Big Brother/Warner Bros.)

Vote yes for Noel Gallagher as rock's benevolent despot.

Haven't Oasis already released a record called Dig Out Your Soul? No, wait -- it was "Go Let It out." or was it "the Meaning of Soul"?

Tindersticks, 'The Hungry Saw' (Constellation)

Luckless lotharios seduce suavely, then suddenly lose mojo.

Powered by rattling drums, simmering organ, and Stuart Staples' resonant baritone, the first half of Tindersticks' latest is a can't-miss proposition. On "Yesterdays Tomorrows," Staples conjures both stylish freaks (Nick Cave, say) and geeks (Lloyd Cole), while near-instrumental "E-Type" splashes drunken brass on deep-vibrato guitar.

Marnie Stern, 'This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It...' (Kill Rock Stars)

Everything that sane people hate about music, executed meticulously.

Marnie Stern has the voice of a little girl grafted to the grizzled hands of Yngwie Malmsteen. Her debut album was heavy on jittery, multitracked riffs, but light on compositions that could support their weight. Now Stern, working again with Hella drummer Zach Hill, attempts to pair her vicious shredding with actual structure.

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