Listening to Horseback’s Invisible Mountain is like listening to the soundtrack to the most profound and thought-provoking movie you’ve ever seen.  Originally released on Utech in 2009, Relapse Records stepped up to re-release the CD version this month (the LP is on Aurora Borealis Records).

The brain-child of Chapel Hill, NC-based guitarist, drummer, and musical jack-of-all-trades Jenks Miller, Horseback is one of the most intriguing sounding bands I’ve come across in a long time.  Fusing sounds from several different genres, Miller crafts an album with the potential to tickle the eardrums of a variety of listeners.  There is a sludgy stoner metal influence on this recording, with heavy droning guitar, thick, pounding drums and rumbling bass reminiscent of a stripped down Neurosis, but with a freedom of expression calling to mind a heavier Swans.

The raspy, crooning vocals channel some of the most ominous black metal vocalists, but blend nicely in the mix amidst the instruments, and do not overpower or get lost behind everything else.  There are more instruments present than just drums, guitar, bass, and vocals, with Miller layering in synthesizer and other instruments that fill out the sound of the band.

Listening to this album is not like listening to your typical metal album.  Each of the four tracks on this album are more akin to movements of a symphony than to individual songs, and the tracks flow together seamlessly as would a symphony.  Of course, this is a symphony you’ll be doing the slow full-body headbang to for most of the album.  While I would suggest listening to this album as a whole vs. listening to individual tracks, the title track I found to be the most dynamic and engaging, as well as the track that best tickled my metal and hardcore leaning tastebuds.

The last track, “Hatecloud Dissolving Into Nothing,” is a change of pace from the first three tracks, and loses the sludge/stoner metal sound for a more post-hardcore sound calling to mind bands like Hoover.  The hypnotic guitar chords come to the front of the mix for this song with the fierce growls fading into the background, giving the song a haunting, texturized sound.

This is one of my favorite new albums this year, and is well worth investing in.  With both future releases on the horizon later this year, as well as a live lineup that will hopefully be going out on the road soon, there is much to look forward to from this mind-blowing band.

(Relapse Records, PO Box 2060, Upper Darby, PA 19082)

Samiam’s sound stems from the time and place they were formed: late 1980s, California. While this album doesn’t provide anything groundbreaking in the punk genre, it is a great collection of unsung classics that may have been lost if it were not for Orphan Works. The range of songs is appealing, from sadder tracks like “Stepson,” to classic crunchy rhythm guitar-driven tracks like “Mr. Walker,” which feature the double-guitar octave break/twinkling leads that make (or break) every post-hardcore song in existence. On what would be side C of the vinyl stack, there are covers of Iggy Pop’s “Search and Destroy” and The Pixies’ “Here Comes Your Man,” which capture Samiam’s essence and while giving a nice interlude halfway through the album betwen original songs.

If you are a punk rock/post-hardcore/emo fan and have not heard of Samiam and are getting sick of your Jawbreaker records, pick this up and give them a try, or see them on their upcoming tour.

(No Idea Records, PO Box 14636, Gainesville, FL 32604-4636)

Miltner’s contribution to the Asthmatic Kitty Library Catalog Music Series — a collection for use as background in TV, film, art, or anything else you might wish to use it for — includes both lovely, soothing ambient tracks as well as frantic cascades of 8-bit noise. As a whole album, it’s rather jarring and doesn’t cohere very cleanly. But she performs both styles well, producing a record with plenty for electronica fans to enjoy.

The first half of the album includes several tracks-worth of floating synths and tinkling effects, with a standout being “Dreaming and Longing.” On that, angelic vocals sweep over the music in waves. It’s easy enough to listen to this track on its own — it need not be background to anything.

By the fifth track, however, the record takes a sharp turn. Miltner has some fairly self-explanatory track titles for her retro-style gaming music, including “Inchworm in Bitcrunch Garden,” “Adventure Platformer,” and “Space Shooter: Boy Avatar” and “Girl Avatar.” Predictably, anyone who whiled away a summer blowing into cartridges will understand her affection for old-school beats and blurps. Though they have limited shelf-life — some of these tracks may make you want to power up your old Master System more than finish the record — there’s some great stuff, here, too.

“Adventure Platformer” is a propulsive, space-age theme with lovely glockenspiel, something that feels suited to some forgotten game’s “Laboratory” stage. “Space Shooter: Girl Avatar,” is unbearably cute, including mewing cat noises that will probably make you giggle the first time (and skip the track every time after that).

More than anything, Miltner makes music that’s pretty, and occasionally precious. But it’s imbued with emotion, too. If videogames can be pop art, then some of the first art many of us experienced was in videogame music, no matter how crude. Miltner takes individual pieces of beautiful ambient and tessellates it with blocks of sharp-edged 8-bit detritus, arranging a Tetris-inspired mosaic that fuses the best of both worlds.

(Asthmatic Kitty Records, PO Box 1282, Lander, WY 82520)

The trouble with mad scientists, though, is that not all their experiments bear fruit. Some of it comes off…well, kind of like you let a crazy person man the studio. Much of Music for Paradise Armor is an arrhythmic clash of noise, from the circular beats to the occasional synthesizer piping and warble. Swift himself describes the album as being full of “modern clickety clacks” and zzzoops s s s,” which is pretty accurate. His experiments excel during more low-key songs, like “Nuux,” a soothing series of blips and bleeps, with a crawling whine trembling overhead, like the sound of a glass harmonic being played in an ice cave. But immediately following that is the abrasive “Chm Chm,” which sounds like a very drugged-out monkey trying to play drums, chimes and Centipede at the same time. It would be more fun to watch than to listen to.

Some consideration is due for the aim of this project. Swift, who is better known for Tin Pan Alley-flavored indie-rock, recorded this as part of Asthmatic Kitty’s Library Catalog Music Series, which is music designed for use as background. Imagine them soundtracking a sinister film scene, and Swift’s sonic wanderings make a lot more sense. But in general, there’s better “atmosphere” music out there than this. Many of the songs would be appropriate at a creepy art installation, but are too dissonant or distracting to be much good for putting on while you’re chilling at home. Unless your home is a creepy art installation, which shows true dedication to your work.

Swift’s vocals aren’t featured on his purely electronic offerings, which is too bad. He has a good voice, and though vocals would probably distract from the ultimate purpose of this music as background, it would make some of these tracks a lot more listenable, too.

(Asthmatic Kitty Records, PO Box 1282, Lander, WY 82520)

The album begins promisingly enough with the track “Mistaken for Cops,” featuring a groovy post-rock sound that I would expect based on the pedigree of the band.  Things go rapidly downhill on the second track, “Along Come the Dogs,” which clocks in at a “get on with it already” length of 17:07, with well over two minutes of virtual dead air spread throughout the song.  Things finally get interesting at about 8:06 on this track, and stay so for the nine remaining minutes, adding in layers and layers of vocals and dynamic sounds, but most people will skip to the next track long before reaching the interesting part in this 17-minute test of attention spans.

While the experiment in minimalism that is “Along Come the Dogs” is 17 minutes of my life that I’d like back, the track “The Listener” which follows is a high point on this album.  Another song that plays with minimalism, “The Listener” features just enough going on to keep you paying attention, and the repetition of the sounds creates an almost hypnotic groove that gets in your head, and gets your ears perked up for the vocals when they occur.

Two further tracks round out the album, “Dead Tenements” and “Chlorine and Crystal.” Both sound like noise/post-rock fusion songs, with none of the groove of “Mistaken for Cops” or the hypnotic repetition of “The Listener.”  “Dead Tenements” is a droning track featuring lots of cymbals, and vocals similar to that of “The Listener,” but lacks the power that made “The Listener” such an earworm.  “Chlorine and Crystal” has a lot going on throughout, and stands with “The Listener” and “Mistaken for Cops” as among the strongest tracks on the album.

It remains to see if this collaboration will be more than a one-off deal, but from my perspective, unless you are a diehard fan of all the past bands the members have been in, you might be better off passing on this one.

(Relapse Records, PO Box 2060, Upper Darby, PA 19082)

With their Sub Pop debut, That’s How We Burn, It’s hard to pin down Jaill to any particular genre. Their self-described term “psych-pop” leaves something out of the mix. It would be easy to lump Jaill in the same category as Sub Pop success story The Shins at first listen due to Kircher’s vocal styling and the seemingly ambiguous lyrics, yet after a few listens it’s apparent that that comparison completely misses the mark. They obviously have a wide range of influences and take the best parts of each type of music they love, incorporating equal parts indie-pop and old-fashioned rock n’ roll, a hard-on for rockabilly, and a well-worn denim jacket hidden in a closet somewhere that still has all of the punk buttons and patches on it from high school.

The album opens with “The Stroller.” While a good song, it’s a strange choice of an opener, as it only serves to misrepresent the rest of the album. The fact that they released the next song, “Everyone’s Hip,” as the first single is another strange choice; it’s a pretty weak song compared to the remainingtracks. The next two songs, “On the Beat” and “Thank Us Later,” are both incredibly strong, nailing the slacker surf sleaze Jaill does best. The latter of these two songs, with its stoned slide guitar and impenetrable-yet-heartbreaking lyrics, is easily the soundtrack to your worst summer breakup. “Baby I” is another gem, as it rips a page from Elvis Costello’s book, but warps and wraps it with Beach Boys-y doo-wops and lyrics reflecting an aging desperation. The sub-par lyrics and pseudo-metal riff on “Demon” makes the song the only real miss — everything about it screams “filler track.”

While Jaill’s music burns, Kircher’s lyrics proves him to be the real thief of fire: “Grass that fit in my lungs had me hopeful till you held a hunger strike in the hall/and made me crawl and the leaves fell welcomes us to fall,” and “It’s all been done in front of me and I still ain’t knowing how/your world it grows like an enemy inside me’s how I feel right now” from “Thank Us Later” perfectly describes a failed relationship with fresh and vivid imagery. It’s amazing what Kircher’ and Jaill are able to craft using drugs and girls as the predominant subject matter. Even more amazing is their way of doing it while charming the pants off of anyone.

(Sub Pop Records, 2013 Fourth Avenue, Third Floor, Seattle, WA 98121)

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “The Stroller” by Jaill

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Everyone’s Hip” by Jaill

(self-released, no address provided)

It’s easy to give Blonde Redhead points for trying, because so many bands of their age (looking at you, Quasi) would simply copy-and-paste the same prehistoric formula they first achieved notoriety for. They don’t get that complacent; it’d be fair to say Blonde Redhead sounds like a completely different group 20 years later, but they might be moving in the wrong direction. Penny Sparkle embraces the ‘80s melodrama of Depeche Mode, Cocteau Twins, and (a little more recent) Portishead to incredibly varying effect.

Occasionally, the sound comes together quite well — the title track marries Kazu Makino’s always-gorgeous falsetto with a plodding, post-industrial drum machine, which gives the song a delectable public-access television ambience. But for the most part, Penny Sparkle is full of one-dimensional tracks that go on far longer than they should. The six-minute “Love or Prison” climbs up a shuttering guitar chug and then simply falls off the other end, a buildup with no payoff — but the buildup isn’t nearly interesting enough to justify that. The album has a decent amount of ideas, but it never hits its stride, and instead mires the listener in a series of empty vessels.

(4AD, 17-19 Alma Road, London, SW18 1AA)

Verbicide Free Download: Click here to download “Here Sometimes” by Blonde Redhead

These are a scattered 11 songs, shifting from church-like pop purity to angsty jabs like “Watching Birds” (Briggs has a degree in ornithology). There is a lack of focus, attempting and achieving a various amount of sounds (even in “Zorbing” the gregorian chant steps aside to trumpets and violins). Credit for the breadth, but some solid focusing (and perhaps an outside producer) would grant these Cowley-based Brits a few more straight-through listens and a few less skip-button reactions.

As this is their debut, having a hit or miss record isn’t the worst problem. The songs that do work, work well; the ones that don’t, falter mostly in the oddity of instrumentation: On “We Are The Battery Human” the banjo-esque guitar opening is at odds with the choral singing that follows and belies the mood established with the prior five songs. The chorus-vocal choice feels forced and halts any resonance the song may have. Stornoway flourish when Briggs’ vocals are let off the leash, avoid the droll talk-singing that wastes his enviable range, and are left alone; having talent and a strong voice in a frontman isn’t a bad thing.

(4AD, 17-19 Alma Road, London, SW18 1AA)

Recorded in the home of husband and wife duo Melissa Rodenbeek and Hiram Lucke, “I’ve Been Watching” features an array of innovative recording techniques throughout the record, most notably heard on instrumental tracks such as “Smile Like Gwynplaine” and “Puss.”  However, the album’s stand out track, “A Letter to the Bees,” is quite possibly the simplest, minus an analog synth that cuts straight through the heart of this indie-pop ballad.  “Monster” follows suit with an infectious dance-pop beat that even the most awkward wallflower can get down to.

Quite simply, I’ve Been Watching tastefully layers and blends elements from many walks of the musical spectrum into a beautifully compact aural experience.  As soon as you hear the last track’s faint sound of hoofs walking off into the distance, you’ll find yourself wanting more.

(Circle Into Square, no address provided)