The Horrors
Skying
(XL)
After a pair of goth-inspired psychedelic albums, the third release by these U.K. indie rockers finds the group in an optimistic mood. Instead of rehashing their love of ’60s garage rock and ’80s post-punk, the band has become fixated on a more swirling sound. Featuring the ample use of synthesizers and enough guitar effects to sink a ship, many tracks move from verse to chorus and back again in a way that can leave a listener lost. Tape loops, backwards guitar lines, and even brass instruments played for accents are implemented strategically throughout. “Endless Blue” opens hazily with an easygoing bass line and background trumpets, but suddenly erupts, just before the two-minute mark, into a hard-charging guitar riff. Though a nearly hour-length running time may test attention spans, there’s plenty of material to revisit. Plus you can dance to it. —Michael Cimaomo
Anvil
Monument of Metal
(The End)
A band whose career always had one foot in the grave until the critically acclaimed 2008 “rock doc” film Anvil! The Story of Anvil catapulted them unexpectedly back into the limelight, these uncompromising Canadian sled-bangers have released a greatest hits album showcasing tracks from its 16-album catalogue. Praised as highly influential to thrash-metal bands like Anthrax and Megadeth, Anvil has always straddled the fence between Iron Maiden and Spinal Tap (they even have a drummer named Robb Reiner)—so insanely rocking and embracing of dark, demonic themes that it borders on being comical. Silly or not, the band does not fail for one nanosecond to rock out with its collective cock out, delivering a full-frontal assault of mighty metal that is undeniably pure in its unholy mission and singular in its purpose. And they have a song about Mothra. —Tom Sturm
Lotus
Lotus
(Sci Fidelity)
Lotus plays music that combines a host of unlikely sounds into something that would make a great soundtrack for a super-futuristic Manhattan bar with light-up tables and wan models for patrons. Though few of its elements are particularly appealing on their own—languorous dance tempos, analog synthesizer noodling, long instrumentals with sparse, looped vocals—they somehow combine to pleasing effect. Perhaps it’s because the band makes a habit of constructing its pieces with noticeable movements instead of indulging the amorphous, dull repetition of too much dance music. That the band named a track “Molluskunk” may alone prove that this is a particularly ingenious and often tongue-in-cheek incarnation of groovy dance music. —James Heflin
