Interpol, 'Interpol' (Matador)

New York's gloom kings fail to muster former majesty

At the core of every great Interpol song hangs a hook so barbed it could draw blood, no matter how heavy the surrounding goth atmospherics.

Words of Wisdom: Superchunk

After 21 years (and a nine-year hiatus), indie rock's indiest finally see their chariot arrive.
Superchunk / Photographed for SPIN by D.L. Anderson

"Hold on," says Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster, eyeing a black stretch limo in front of a bougie downtown Chicago hotel. "I need to make sure it's long enough."

!!!, 'Strange Weather, Isn't It?' (Warp)

Brooklyn punk funkin' gets somber makeover.

Bits of darkness invade !!!'s first album in three years, and it's a dangerous supplement for a band whose foundation is winking, boisterous funk. When the slink doesn't get too murky, as on "AM/FM" and the cheery "Steady as the Sidewalk Cracks," the nighttime vibe pays off. When the fun gets left behind ("Hollow," "Jump Back"), little remains except a pleasant-but-purposeless bass groove.

Cotton Jones, 'Tall Hours in the Glowstream' (Suicide Squeeze)

Folksy couple awash in past's brooding echoes.

The best parts of this boy-girl duo's second album sound like some obscure '50s act, the kind that ought to list "reverb" as a band member. "Song in Numbers" and "Man Climbs out of the Winter" stare gorgeously through Roy Orbison's Ray-Bans, deliberately dating themselves with vintage ghostly keyboards and distant drums.

Maps & Atlases, 'Perch Patchwork' (Barsuk)

Proggy polymaths shine with hookier pleasures

This Chicago band’s skittish energy recalls Talking Heads and TV on the Radio, lightening any dark subject matter with twitchy bursts of color.

Kele, 'The Boxer' (Glassnote)

Heart-purging confessions via post-Bloc rockin' beats.

Kele Okereke follows Thom Yorke's path on this first solo set, stepping away from a hugely successful band to spend more time addressing the aesthetics of the dance floor.

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