Pet Shop Boys — Format (Parlophone)
Ahh, yes. The long-awaited sequel to the Pet Shop Boys’ classic B-side collection Alternative. Format picks up right where its predecessor left off, compiling B-sides from their Bilingual (1996) era all the way up to 2009’s Yes. The remarkable thing about the Pet Shop Boys has always been their quality control. The songs that Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe cut from their albums are songs that other aging synth duos (cough, Erasure) would kill for. That’s not to say that this 38-song collection is flawless, but it nearly is. For every middling number (“The Calm Before The Storm,” “Nightlife,” “Between Two Islands”) there are dozens of brilliant could’ve-been singles that rank among the best songs PSB have ever recorded. It’s impossible to devour this beautifully packaged collection in one sitting, but it’s fun to try. If you have to cherry pick the highlights, look out for the epic Stock-Aiken-Waterman-meets-Cold War anthem “Delusions Of Grandeur.” The New Order-ish (but in a good way) “I Didn’t Get Where I Am Today” is probably the best song they’ve recorded in the past decade. “Always” is the heartbreaking ballad you’ve wanted the Boys to record. There’s also a wealth of fun to be had in the extensive booklet. More enjoyable than their last few studio albums, Format is seriously not to be missed. —Dominik Rothbard

Chumbawamba — The Big Society (Original Cast Recording) (No Masters)
It might surprise you to know that Chumbawamba are celebrating their 30th year of existence. It might also surprise you to learn that Chumbawamba’s 17th (not kidding) release is actually the soundtrack to their musical, Big Society. Playing now at the City Varieties Music Hall in Leeds, The Big Society is, according to their website, a show set in Edwardian music hall times that could comment on how little has changed in the intervening century. The show, starring Phil Jupitus, follows the backstage antics of the cast of a music hall variety show threatened with closure by the man from a corrupt newspaper, The Double Standard. While I have not been fortunate enough to see the show, the music is wonderful. Set in 1919, the songs reflect the time—Gershwin-esque numbers with typical Chumbawamba satirical wit. Highlights include (relative) stompers “Oil!,” “The Knives Are Out” and the wonderful “The Old School Tie.” “If It’s A Sin, Count Me In” echoes a sentiment the band’s been preaching for years. Is this Chumbawamba’s best work? Of course not. The anarchist collective has released some brilliant punk and dance albums no one’s heard of. This isn’t for beginners. —Dominik Rothbard

Dr. Dog — Be The Void (ANTI-)
If you listen to Fleet Foxes and think to yourself, “I wish this could be folksier, homier. I wanna feel like I’m on a dirty porch in a rocking chair while I listen to this”—well, then Dr. Dog has a treat for you. This is Dr. Dog’s seventh album, and my how they’ve aged. The band kind of had a late-in-life renaissance with last year’s Shame Shame but seem to have descended from those dizzy heights with Be The Void. This isn’t a bad album. It’s just kind of the same album they keep making, only with a little less charm and a couple fewer choruses. There was a time when their earnest, barefoot music sounded fresh and fun. But the times are changing faster than Dr. Dog. In all honesty, if you can’t get enough of these guys (I can—they’re best in small doses), you’ll probably like this one too. The album is generally hit-or-miss. “Half Light” has a fun energy absent from the rest of the album. “Get Away” almost sounds like it was recorded this century and “Over There” is catchy but overly familiar. But then “Big Girl” is lyrically embarrassing, and unless you’ve got Burning Man coming up, “Warrior Man” should be deleted from your iDevice immediately. I’m kinda over these guys. —Dominik Rothbard

Grimes — Visions (4AD Records)
Claire Boucher, the Canadian who records as Grimes, is some kind of prolific freak. Visions, her third full-length release since 2010, is her most commercial, but don’t let that fool you. The music’s more tuneful than usual—a traipse through the electronic sounds of the day, meaning primitively dinky keyboards and sound effects that could’ve been processed in any old bedroom, with tinny drumbeats and squelchy bass. And then there’s the voice—a helium-tinged falsetto that hasn’t been heard in pop music since the glory days of Altered Images. If you’re in the wrong mood, Grimes will rub you raw in all the wrong ways—she sounds equally unhinged and overly precious, a bit moony and, well, kind of stupid. But given the right mood, which would be, I don’t know, close to lunacy, Grimes is inspired. There are plenty of bedroom synth acts these days; most of them are interchangeable. But nothing sounds like Grimes. She swoops through these 13 odd songs and snippets like your crazy guardian angel, from the Yoko Ono-isms of the pop-happy “Oblivion” to the Chipmunks dry-humping M.I.A. on “Eight.” If you like your pop stars with one arm in the straitjacket, here’s your favorite new crush. —Dan Loughry

Perfume Genius — Put Your Back N 2 It (Matador Records)
Boy, YouTube is squeamish. The powers that be deemed the video for Perfume Genius’s “Hood” from his second release Put Your Back N 2 It unsuitable for family viewing just because Mike Hadreas (aka Perfume Genius) is embraced—with clothes on—by porn star Arpad Miklos. I mean, if we cannot be hugged fully clothed by porn stars, then what is the point of freedom, I ask you? The song itself is the sweetest piano ballad imaginable—just funereal chords, the echoed pickle of Hadreas’ high tenor and then the crashing of drums towards the chorus. The songs on Put Your Back N 2 It don’t stray far from the template of debut Learning—slow, sad tunes that are like a floating dream of desire. Only beneath the wistful surface here is a heartbreak all the more harrowing for its surrounding quietude. “Normal Song” sounds like the young Paul Simon drowning in confusion. The erotic underpinnings of “Take Me Home” are nearly obscured by the self-loathing at its center. And elsewhere depression fights hard against beauty, often to a clenched-teeth draw. For all you melancholy, dreamy gay boys, this is the CD you’ve been waiting for. —Dan Loughry

Shearwater — Animal Joy (Sub Pop)
Formed as an offshoot of the Americana band Okkervil River, Shearwater is the rare case of a side project having long eclipsed its parent. That wasn’t too difficult, as Okkervil River was always one of those literary prospects that sounded better in reviews than coming out of the stereo. Will Sheff, OR’s brain trust, joined forces with his cohort Jonathan Meiburg to release their ‘quieter’ songs under the Shearwater moniker, but he left the band after 2004’s Winged Life. And Meiburg stepped up, releasing three albums of supernal beauty—Palo Santo (2006), Rook (2008) and the stunning The Golden Archipelago (2010). Meiburg, who holds a Master’s degree in geography and is a keen ornithologist, let the natural world guide his muse on those records—they were majestic, organic and often awe-inspiring. Animal Joy, the band’s eighth release, still has beauty in its DNA, but its vision of nature is dirtier, scarier and more thrilling. In other words, it rocks. “You As You Were” is a stomping loser’s lament that sweeps you along under waves of rollicking piano chords. “Immaculate” is three-chord punk blues as desperate as its pace. And elsewhere the music goes wherever Meiburg wants to take you. Let him; he’s an excellent guide. —Dan Loughry