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.

Mercury Rev, 'Snowflake Midnight' (Yep Roc)

Flaming who? Visionary group makes lovely melodies, not war.

Mercury Rev have built a career on fey bemusement, jolting potentially chilly soundscapes to life with yearning melodies and gurgling atmospherics -- a formula that could easily add up to hipster schmaltz if not for the band's wonderfully skewed arrangements.

Ben Folds, 'Way to Normal' (Epic)

Ben there, done that -- crafty piano man hits creative impasse.

On 2001's Rockin' the Suburbs, Ben Folds hit a career high, rendering melodic, detail-rich short stories peopled by, among others, a bored '80s girl sitting on a Peavey amp ("Zak and Sara") and a father confronting his son while dressed as a bird at his fast-food job ("Still Fighting It").

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.

Giant Sand, 'proVisions' (Yep Roc)

Country sprouts quotation marks with curiously winning results.

With its galumphing rhythms and down-home accents, provisions straddles the fence between parody and poetry, ultimately landing safely on its poetic ass, thanks to lines that transcend Flannery O’Connor 101: “Every girl is like a pearl / Hearts strung along and then left stranded,” ringleader Howe Gelb muses.

Civet, 'Hell Hath No Fury' (Hellcat)

Festive femmes fatale break hearts in three chords or less.

This California quartet treat the Ramones, the Runaways, and their forebears like piñatas: Crack 'em open and wait for the goodies to fall out.

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