Steve Martin isn’t a new bohemian and Edie Brickell isn’t a wild and crazy guy, but the two part-time musos have nonetheless decided that they should work together. He handles the banjo; she is in charge of the vocals. The resulting tunes strive for a rustic, Appalachian sensibility that never quite seems genuine—more Aunt Jemima than grade-A maple syrup. Precious and self-indulgent, this disc is bound for the sale rack at Starbucks.

Armed with banks of pulsing keyboards, Valleys play as though lackadaisically feeding an M83 album through a month of serious mellow-time. “Living Normal” is a musical interlude that drifts on its own, barely existent momentum and is as much an aspiration as a song. “Us” could be MBV, at a Slowdive pace. If you’re in the mood for rain, sighing and bay windows, this is sad but beautiful release is for you. 

This definitely ranks among the top five best albums recorded by The Stooges. That’s because they’ve only recorded five. It had some promise, with Raw Power guitarist James Williamson back in the fold, but this record is just no fun. Iggy Pop, who still kills it live, is too gloomy on “The Departed,” too canny on “Gun.” The Stooges reach for their early oeuvre on the opener, “Burn”—but that workout leaves them exhausted for the rest of the record, requiring them to take a breather on three acoustic songs. It’s a sad affair best summed up by the title track.  

Partnering with The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach seems to be all the rage right now. If you questioned this trend, please direct your attention to Hanni El Khatib’s newest release. Head in The Dirt, the SF native’s sophomore offering, shows a delightfully vast range of influences. While there is the obvious almost-polished-yet-still-rough-and-soulful Keys influence on songs like “Pay No Mind,” tracks like “Save Me” and the instant pop classic “Penny” keep us wanting more. Go team Khatib–Auerbach! 

This Montreal outfit is an overlooked treasure if ever there was one. They’ve made some wise moves to turn the emotional dial from despair to euphoria and have also managed to write some huge tracks here, the biggest in their catalogue yet. “New Summer” both cruises and collapses, the chorus ascensions creating soft shivers. “Privileged Poor” explosively underpins Catherine McCandless’ shamanistic croons with a rock-steady beat. There won’t be many more solid albums than this in 2013.

Cuddlecore pair The Boy Least Likely To doubled down on their childhood concept for their dark sophomore album, 2009’s Law of the Playground, but the result wasn’t quite as charming as 2006 debut The Best Party Ever. Third album The Great Perhaps reconfigures the band’s musical toy box as a gleaming chiptune-pop showcase. The naïveté, cheeky lyricism and sad-sack romance return on earwormy tracks such as “It Could’ve Been Me (feat. Gwenno)” and “Even Jesus Couldn’t Mend My Broken Heart.”

A certain pent-up aggression unleashes itself, cathartic and unrestrained, in No Joy’s third release Wait To Pleasure. The Montreal female three-piece shreds guitars and any preconceived sense of sweetness alike, evidenced by the gun-toting “E,” Wait To Pleasure’s throbbing, dissonant opener, bleeding into the lapping echoes of “Hare Tarot Lies.” Textured as it comes, the album drips with heady shoegaze, and meaty bass lines prevail in a melodic, rewarding sonic endeavor.

Har Mar Superstar is known widely for his flamboyant antics and overly sexualized lyrics—some even propose that Sean Tillman’s albums are a joke. Bye Bye 17 doesn’t strike that way at all. The 10-song album explores love in despairing, hilarious and sometimes weird ways. No matter the lyrical content, Tillman’s silken, Otis Redding–reminiscent vocals anchor funky, horn-driven R & B beats that match the swagger of Motown.

Junip’s second full-length finds them occupying the same melancholy, earnest spaces as their last, but the Swedish trio have since outgrown some restrictive boundaries. José González’s smooth, honeyed vocals and nylon-string plucking are more timbres than lead presences, and to great success. Tobias Winterkorn’s varied, otherworldly Moog swells unify the tracks, and Elias Araya’s decisive percussion is the essential foil. “Villain”’s fuzzy stomp marks a welcome departure, while the psych-folk radiance of “Line of Fire” is familiar yet re-energized.

Three years removed from their last record, Birthmarks is a major step forward for Born Ruffians. Sharp songwriting benefits the Canadian quartet as they seamlessly transition between different styles, while adding brighter vocal melodies to fill out their sound. Whether it’s the feel-good indie-pop of “Needle,” the intricate melodies in “Permanent Hesitation” or the fuzzy synths on “Rage Flows,” the album is their most complete work to date.