The indisputable fact remains: reviewers and listeners alike were either shocked, intrigued, euphoric, or all of the above in response to Derek Miller and Alexis Krauss’ debut alum, Treats. Loud, abrasive and cute in the best possible way, it contrasted Krauss’ sweetly sung (and occasionally shouted) vocals with Miller’s harsh guitar playing, pounded-out beat and the occasional gunshot.

The newest creative iteration of this partnership takes a very different turn. It is still recognizably the Sleigh Bells’ brand, but the completely carefree attitude of, say, Infinity Guitars – “Dumb whores, best friends/ Infinity guitars go ‘head” – is replaced by Leader of the Pack – “Do you remember when/ you had no need for lies/ and now your mother cries/ and nothing matters much.” The latter track, its title mimicking the 1960s hit, is most likely a reference to a recent family tragedy of Miller’s. This emotion is weaves in and out of the entire album, although never too profoundly; the basic composition of pop-infused metal is still essentially the same.

The sentimentality is only one of several distinct new aspects of this album, however. Probably the most obvious at first listen is the intricate and subtle blending of Krauss’ voice and Miller’s melodies, much more noticeable here than in their previous work. This is most evident in both “End of the Line” and “You Lost Me,” though the album as a whole has a pleasant rhythm that varies from a purely metal intro, cooling down towards the middle and building up again at the end.

The issue at stake here is whether Reign of Terror, by taking a slightly less in-your-face approach, is sacrificing the very quality that made Sleigh Bells great in the first place.The answer, in my expert opinion, is definitively no – Treats takes away your breath (and maybe your hearing), while Reign of Terror calms down just enough to allow you to appreciate some of the qualities that really make Sleigh Bells great.

A native of Chicago’s south side, Tristen Gaspadarek graduated from DePaul University with a sociology degree and a lot of academically-inspired ideas about romance. Her decision to ditch Durkheim and instead follow her more creative interests meant that the world received an album full of energetic, vaguely country-infused ballads that reflect more on human social interaction than the average love song. For a debut album Tristen sounds comfortable and confident with her own voice, although this may be because the 26-year-old artist has been recording since age 14. She sings with a pleasant twangy, slightly throaty quality that blends well with the acoustic guitar that forms the base of most of the tracks. The cello accompaniment in “Wicked Heart” is a particularly nice touch, adding a bittersweet emotional tone to a rather dreamy, disillusioned set of lyrics. “Baby Drugs” is also one of my favorites, with rather provocative title giving way to an adorably serious account of how difficult it is to be the girlfriend of a drug addict.

This album has been in the works for several years, and the perfectionism is apparent in the success of the album as a whole. Thoughtful lyrics are sweetly crooned to the melodies of precisely chosen, expertly played accompanists, and each song flows neatly into the next. Though lacking in radicalism, it is not an album entirely without spunk. Though I still have no idea what the banjo-playing baby has to do with anything.

– Ani Zotti

But one particular aspect of their music has unquestionably developed – recording quality. While some die-hard indies may mourn the loss of the true garage-band feel – muffled bass, loose accompaniment and scratchy voices – I personally am a fan of the smoother sound. They lose none of the energy or enthusiasm of their first album, while at the same time the clearer vocals and distinctive riffs are easier to appreciate. The lyrics are full of proclamations of love for girls that may or may not reciprocate the emotion, but the optimism is obvious in every word.

And they have good reason to be optimistic – this solid second album certainly lives up to expectations. Tracks alternate between whimsical odes to idealized girls and peppier, bouncier beats about dancing the night away. My personal favorite is still “Weekend,” the single they released late last year. With a dizzy, ephemeral sort of melody narrated by Omori’s sweet but sad vocals, it not only instantly sends one into a teenage daydream, but also perfectly sets the tone for the rest of the album.

For the sake of full disclosure, I went to school with all these boys. So no matter how much Pitchfork salivates over “the lean of Omori’s voice and the whip of his chord changes, the curves of his brother Cameron’s bass lines,” I still think of Max, Cameron and Cullen as those black-jeaned boys skulking through the halls of my nerdy Chicago public high school, pretending to play the bass in the back of Beginning Orchestra (as I struggled along even more feebly on the cello) and hiding to avoid tests in AP Music Theory. But without a doubt I have a whole new respect for their music. No longer is this the scratchy, warbling production they put on in Econ class for extra credit to an amused teacher in 2008. I saw them again at Pitchfork this summer, and not only did they put on a solid performance but the loyalty and enthusiasm of their fans were palpable. Their stage presence may have needed a little work – Cullen’s banter in between sets consisted mainly of “Yeah! So like, yeah. Whatever, man. Like, yeah” – but really, who’s complaining? Not most people. Indeed, with this album I would be much surprised if the not only the music industry but audiences as well continue to fall in love with Smith Westerns.

– Ani Zotti

Smith Westerns – Weekend from Fat Possum Records on Vimeo.

Needless to say, this is a guy who has big ideas for his music. I’m not sure I understand all of what is going on in each track, but I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed whatever it was. About half of the songs have guitar melodies set over those soaring piano chord progressions that are so often associated with the Arcade Fire, but Radical Face uses them to evoke a more bittersweet mood. All of the recording is done by Mr. Cooper himself, and individual songs involve several tracks layered on top of each other. The precision is evident in the music, with every crescendo and harmony exquisitely placed for optimum emphasis. At the same time, a lot of this album feels like something I’ve heard before – this may be because the songs are so accessible, or because Radical Face is part of a much bigger trend in music these days. Or possibly the creator is just a little too familiar with his music, and could stand to get a bit more radical. But regardless of what I think about Mr. Cooper and his musical boundaries, he has indeed put together a very pretty set of tracks. Kudos to Ben; one can only hope that his four other endeavors are equally as successful.

– Ani Zotti

On their newest album, Play It Strange, the prolific ensemble has found a solid sound, in the vein of the successful Surfer Blood, but with deeper vocals and a more nuanced melody, a la Edward Sharpe (though without the folksy-ness).  In interviews, Fresh and Onlys have meekly disputed the ‘garage’ band label so often atributed to them, but thanks to the basement production of their first two albums, and the continued creation of slightly crunchy, homegrown tracks, it is a label they will find hard to avoid. On Play it Strange, the first three songs are an amazingly smooth beginning to an album– “Summer of Love” is an ironic ode to ignorant bliss, made up of a bouncy beat with a bit of zydeko accompaniment, while “Waterfall”  stands out as my personal favorite song on the record. That track perfectly juxtaposes the deep strength of Cohen’s voice against Sartin’s equally deep bass line and a more optimistic, higher-pitched guitar melody. About halfway through Play it Strange, the group shakes it up, throwing in a nearly eight-minute tune, “Tropical Island Suite,” which starts off strong, but confusingly peters out at its mid-point. “All Shook Up,” meanwhile, has an old-fashioned quality to it, emphasizing harsh chords and low vocals. The final track harkens back to the album’s start, returning to a slower rhythm, but maintaining the same attitude of innocuousness which was present throughout Play it Strange.

The album is a definitely the work of a group that seems ready to embrace whatever sound comes their way – the band often talks about songs being produced organically, coming together into records, EPs, or cassettes when appropriate. The bottom line is that Fresh and Onlys make music the old-fashioned way, with basements and beer (they go through about a six-pack each while on stage) making up the heart of their creative impulse. Yet, it is Play It Strange’s originality and inventive twists, and not that approach to music making, that make the record worth many a re-listen.

–Ani Zotti

This is the band’s third CD, and accordingly they sound comfortable but not complacent. However, they haven’t lost the appealing garage-band feel—resulting in a sound a bit like The M’s but with more energetic, clearer vocals. The five person ensemble has enough talent to vary their style from track to track, making the solo male voice in “Blacked-Out Fun” sound just as good as the delicate duet of “Weightlessly in Love” and the female soloist of “Axes Ground Looth Tooth.” The constant fight between fierce emotion and downright ridiculousness is only somewhat resolved in the final track, which starts, “Nine years old and I skinned my knees/ They told me I’d be fine/ Told me I’d be fine/ and the very next day I died.” But the lyrics go on to describe the same emotion in response to getting a job, buying a house, and generally going through the monotonous routine of growing up. In the end, I would have to weigh in on the side of complete sincerity—this is a band without pretensions, but not without heart.

–Ani Zotti

But oddly, that’s the best way to listen to Swanlights, the band’s fourth studio album. Singer Antony Hegarty’s haunting voice floats in and out of the string and piano accompaniment, elusive yet impossible  to ignore. In a group that boasts a number of seriously accomplished musicians – a Berklee College of Music grad and two Carnegie-Hall-alum violin prodigies, to name a few – Antony’s voice is still the most impressive. It is naked and untampered with on most tracks on the album, which spotlights its intriguing, warbling quality. Hegarty’s voice, as beautiful as it is, has a characteristically sad overtone, which he places front-and-center in songs like “Thank You For Your Love,” one of the album’s more upbeat tracks, when he croons “When all is falling in the seizure of pain/ Oh thank you for your love.”

But despite the well-educated musicians and the mystical voice, some tracks prove less than the sum of their parts. “Flétta,”  a collaboration with the even more vocally-impressive Bjork, is surprisingly disappointing. Although both singers are immensely talented, neither one uses his or her pipes to their fullest potential, failing to bring the listener up to the lofty, dreamlike place we’ve come to expect from them. Rather, they are far outshone by the mediocre piano accompaniment.

But don’t entirely blame Bjork for the failure of “Flétta”: the band gives ample proof that it can disappoint without the help of an Icelandic superstar. In “Thank You For Your Love,” the band strays from its roots with an interesting, jazzy beat, complete with a saxophone accompaniment. Unfortunately, the optimistic sound comes off forced and inorganic, making it anomalous from the rest of the album and spoiling the purity of Hegarty’s vocals.

But despite its shortcomings, Swanlights does present a good handful of quality work. In “Salt Silver Oxygen,” a sweeter tune, Hegarty puts forth all his best vocal qualities, while the musicians perfectly compliment him with a beautiful backing arrangement. Artistic experimentation is always interesting, sure, but this song proves that sometimes sticking to basics works even better – Antony and the Johnsons have a very solid stylistic sound, and even with their fourth album they are able to explore new depths within the bounds of the genre that works for them. As well as provide me with yet another procrastination tool.

-Ani Zotti

Even with all of the different rhythms and allusions jam-packed into these baker’s dozen songs, Agent Ribbons manages to maintain a distinctive style throughout. The slightly schizophrenic variety is in fact a pleasant change from all those bands that somehow compile entire albums from what seems to be different variations of the same song. Not only are there Edith Piaf –reminiscent sections in “Oh La La” and violent crescendo-ing violin scales in the final song, “Wood, Lead, Rubber,” but they all seem to come together; the sum of the album is greater than any individual track. This duo (and sometimes trio) is not afraid to play around with their sound. And what a sound it is – they have clearly come a long way from their first album recording in a friend’s basement in 2006. Polished but not contrived, Natalie Gordon protests, “I used to be so smart/ Now I make it look so hard.” But anyone who listens to this album would think otherwise. Rumor has that their live performances are awesome as well – and if the images evoked by their lyrics are anything to go by, I can’t see how they wouldn’t be.

–Ani Zotti