Pterodactyl
Spills Out
(Brah)

Described as a “bittersweet look at endings and conclusions,” the third album by this Brooklyn-based trio is a surprising foray into ’60s-inspired pop. While previous releases featured an abrasive take on noise-punk and art rock, this one remains decidedly experimental, only now with most of the rougher edges polished to a sheen. Instruments still include the requisite bass, drums and guitar. But the group’s sound has evolved with gentle harmonies, whirling Wurlitzers and the electronic contribution of a toy keyboard called the Kawasaki Dual Cool Keys. Numerous tracks are awash in distinct layers, often with competing noises floating by in the dreamlike mix. Though many songs aim for a positive outlook, there’s no denying the ominous vibe of “Allergy Shots,” which uses a fuzzed-out bass to shroud a melancholy chorus of “the grass isn’t greener/ there is no grass to mow.” —Michael Cimaomo

Scott Hall
Humor Me
(independent)

Instrumentally lovely, with richly arranged arpeggios and textures on keyboards, guitars, harmonicas and more, Humor Me features a host of Valley guest stars from Matt Cullen and Steve Sanderson to Miranda Brown and Lisa Bezo, and makes good use of all them. The songwriting bounces back and forth between country-ish ballads like the title track to punky tunes (“Frappe Girl”) and deeply felt anti-anthems (“Fat Kid”), borrowing style from Neil Young or The Band (sometimes via The Figments) but always tossing in something odd and progressive to keep listeners on their toes. If you’re familiar with Hall, or are a longtime resident of the Valley, you’ll be able to tell that many of these songs are old, just having made it onto CD, which makes it a nice little piece of local musical history. “Johnny Goldbike,” a paean to a real-life Noho street character, is pure 1993. —Tom Sturm

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Lindstrom
Six Cups of Rebel
(Feedelity)

With Six Cups of Rebel, his fourth solo album, Hans-Peter Lindstrom continues to explore the far reaches of the cosmic disco galaxy, this time using his voice for mantra-like lyric effect. He repeatedly mutters “That feeling that you’ve been here before” on the therefore aptly titled “De Javu” that, following the five-plus minute keyboard crescendos of “No Release,” contains the album’s first definitive beat. And he continuously states “All I want is a quiet place to live,” on “Quiet Place to Live,” which may not be unusual for this Norwegian dance producer, who owns a wooded cabin outside Oslo. “I don’t find that too weird for a dance track,” Lindstrom has said. “I mean, who hasn’t been to a disco, dancing to boring music, wishing to be some place else? I do that all the time.” —Pete Redington