Brightblack Morning Light, 'Motion to Rejoin' (Matador)

Groovy teepee dwellers snap out of their stupor -- sort of.

New Mexico-based folkie enigmas Nathan "Naybob" Shineywater and Rachael "Raybob" Hughes' second full-length as Brightblack Morning Light is the sound of a peyote comedown after their earlier astral journeys.

Blitzen Trapper, 'Furr' (Sub Pop)

Portland bard focuses sonic disarray into intergalactic twang.

With 2007's dizzyingly pastoral Wild Mountain Nation, this genre-blending sextet rendered any reductive classification impossible.

Amanda Palmer, 'Who Killed Amanda Palmer' (Roadrunner)

Dresden Doll comes clean on brutally expressive diary purge.

Manic and depressed, Amanda Palmer's solo debut is either artful psychobiography or deeply twisted dramatic monologue. Either way, the album is a dark gem, a high-IQ song cycle that combines guilt, neurotic lust, and low self-esteem into piano-based tunes that come studded with lyrical daggers.

Dead Confederate, 'Wrecking Ball' (The Artists Organization)

Heck, guess the "redneck shoegaze" movement starts here.

Dead Confederate play exactly the kind of music a band called Dead Confederate should -- sluggish, sorrowful, searing, and Southern in virtually all the right ways. The Georgia quintet's debut may appeal to My Morning Jacket fans, but songs like "Heavy Petting" and "Start Me Laughing" (which recalls Kurt Cobain at his nastiest) possess more growl than that comparison implies.

Lindsey Buckingham, 'Gift of Screws' (Reprise)

Fabled studio whiz shows why he should get out of the house.

Three decades after helping steer Fleetwood Mac to platinum glory, Lindsey Buckingham's enthusiasm remains his greatest strength -- and weakness. For all the warm California melodies, his unchecked perfectionism produces an antiseptic sound, with the overdub junkie supplying most of the instruments and all the vocals (though old mates Mick Fleetwood and John McVie make cameos).

Buckcherry, 'Black Butterfly' (Atlantic/Eleven Seven)

For these tattooed riff rogues, Rock of Love is still real life.

Dirty-minded, unrepentant, and awash in bad-boy charm, Black Butterfly makes you forget hair metal's demise was more than 15 years ago. Boiling over with twitchy guitars and naughty propositions that'd make Steven Tyler blush -- if he didn't demand a cut of the Aerosmith-indebted "A Child Called 'It'" -- these Los Angelenos deliver a brash follow-up to 2006's platinum-selling 15.

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