Neo-psych dreamy shoegaze noise pop? Yup, that’s a mouthful. Music classification these days is just plain asinine. It’s cool that kids want to experiment and make noise and be hipsters and all that, but the verbalization that buttresses the music they’re making is not. Blame Pitchfork, Stereogum, or even our education system. There’s nothing new under the sun; simply combining My Bloody Valentine and The Beach Boys and then hyphenating invented words doesn’t make you revolutionary. Young Prisms, a San Francisco group that unfortunately fit into the aforementioned rant, are actually really great despite falling into the flavor-of-the-month “sounds like” category.

The wall of noise aesthetic, shoegaze drone, and tempo changes on Young Prisms’ debut, Friends For Now, makes for an exciting listen even with its gloomy underpinnings. “Breathless” hearkens back in anthemia to the since disbanded Ride, “Feel Fine” jangles, and “Sugar” is a somber ode that shifts tempo mid-song, making for one of the best tracks of the album. And “If Don’t Get Much” jams, while “Stay Awake” seems like a challenge with all the drone.

The changes are subtle and to the non-fans of the shoegaze genre, it may all sound the same. But Young Prisms make an excellent addition to the genre. Where Friends For Now falls short — regardless of the presumably innocent intention to create art — is in the fact that it doesn’t necessarily achieve anything new. It reworks and combines sounds that not only have been done decades earlier, but that are also being reworked by an endless list of contemporaries with more vigor today — complete with descriptive nonsensical vernacular. By Peter Viele

Verbal Kent has released six albums in six years, which might make you think that the Chicago MC is hustling for mainstream success. But nothing could be farther from the truth; as the man otherwise known as Dan Weiss says in press for Save Yourself, “I prefer small interesting pockets of notoriety and respect, because that’s how things in the world really travel. That’s when ideas spread, through real connections.” And it’s impossible not to immediately connect with Save Yourself, which kicks off with the warm yet intense mission statement “Ahead Of Its Time.” After that, the album immediately launches into the jazzy Pete Rock-produced “Take,” which finds Verbal Kent evoking early Eminem’s detail-drenched horror rap (yes, VK is white) while also dogging fellow Chi-town MC Kanye West as he chants “Gimme back real hip-hop.”

“Examples” features a choppy, hard-to-follow beat, but the song’s real-world storytelling is surprisingly easy on the ears and turns a yawner into a fire-spitter. “Cry” and “Help” both get down with requisite wailing soul samples and grimey drums, but “My City” is Save Yourself’s instant classic, with Brand Nubian legend Sadat X hearkening back to New York’s ‘90s rap reign while Edo G and Verbal Kent big-up their own respective hometowns. Not surprisingly, the two songs with the most uncreative names are the weakest on Save Yourself: “Now” is a bit of a hiccup with its sparkly piano, while “No’s” beeping bare-bones beat flat-out flat lines.

But the back half of Verbal Kent’s sixth album still sizzles, with a dungeon-jazz drum sample on “Dinner Party” and an evocative, crackling guitar on “Last Laugh.” The Eminem comparisons will surely raise their ugly heads again on the closing title track, but Verbal Kent is a far different animal. After nearly dying when “something of a friend” slashed his throat in 2004, Verbal Kent has been on an undeniable tear that has nothing in common with Marshall Mathers’ MTV, Billboard, or Grammy aspirations. Save Yourself’s press finishes, “The day that I put out a record that sounds like the last one or doesn’t improve according to my own standards will be the day that I stop making records.” You can’t argue with artistic integrity like that. By Nick McGregor

In The Cool Of The Day stands in stark contrast to the other albums I’ve been sifting through for the past few days. For some reason, other artists seem to want to kill their target audience (me) — or at least pull them from a car and drag them behind it. Daniel Martin Moore, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of this sentiment. In The Cool Of The Day is poised and therapeutic, and at times the album almost sounds tired. Fortunately, saving grace comes from several supporting corners — including my man Jesus.

Moore scored his first release with Sub Pop via a stamped envelope and a demo — this is an approach that has always created a biased opinion on my behalf. And it’s rare today, even though the old-school approach is awesome. The last person I can even remember scoring a record deal this way was Jay Reatard at the age of 15 via cassette. Yet Moore also garnered mainstream attention as an anti-mountaintop mining advocate with his 2010 release Dear Companion. More attention followed from Jim James of My Morning Jacket, an intellectually and environmentally strong-willed fan base, and a van full of a select few blossoming hippies who have a palate for soft jams. Moore even opened for Iron & Wine during the Newport Folk Festival, and has supported other major acts since. He seems to use a lot of energy associating himself to monsters of rock like My Morning Jacket, and my only question is why? 

I can’t find the interesting elements everyone else hears in Daniel Martin Moore’s music. Honestly, In The Cool Of The Day sounds bland and soft. It doesn’t bother me that Moore is liked by others — but I also do not think he will stand the test of time in a grand respect. I don’t think VH1 will cover him, and I don’t think he’ll sell out coliseums. I think he will remain a favorite among NPR hosts — or at least a required artist for people who listen to NPR to pretend they like it. This is all fine. As an artist, Moore has dug in to the hearts of enough people to count on a certain scale. And most likely, that’s exactly where he would like to be. By Will Tunstall

British Sea Power. Yes, you know the name. This UK group rode the post-punk revival of the early 2000s, but unlike its peers, has stuck around. It hurts to say this about a solid band that wittily titled its debut album The Decline Of British Sea Power, but unless some changes are made, their time is up. And BSP’s latest, Valhalla Dancehall, might just signal the band’s steady decline. British Sea Power still packs tasteful melodies and sweet ironies into their albums, but these hallmarks are lost in the big-rock sound they try to distill on Valhalla Dancehall. In an attempt to innovate, the band has compromised the very essence of its appeal: its fun, light sound.

Album opener “Who’s In Control” is over-ambitious in scope and presentation, its simple drum melding with an overly commercial guitar riff devoid of soul. Guitarist Martin Noble occasionally releases his unleashed, feedback-filled style, only to be reined in at the moment of conversion. “Over here/ Every fucking where/ I just don’t know/ Who’s in control,” lead vocalist Scott Wilkinson sings, failing to create any sort of respectable line worth humming over breakfast. Then British Sea Power boldly tries its hand at dance rock on “Living Is So Easy.” Clocking in at just over two minutes, one must assume the song reminded band members that they can’t dance about halfway through the first chorus. That won’t happen again. And “Thin Black Sail” finds the band doing its best Muse imitation and falling short — way short.

British Sea Power does find its stride with the piano epic “Georgia Ray.” Fitting comfortably in the BSP niche, “Georgia Ray” features epic, ethereal vocals over melodramatic melodies, with background voices on choice lines and a quaint guitar solo adding to the song’s theatrical aura. “I think it’s probably best to say something/ Won’t you say something/ Won’t you say, say, say something,” Noble chants in the climatic chorus. “Luna” also follows a more traditional BSP formula, making it a noteworthy track. British Sea Power dared to develop on Valhalla Dancehall, but the gamble didn’t pay off. If they decide to continue making music, Valhalla Dancehall will prove to be a pivotal album in defining the band’s core sound. And if our English lads disband, Valhalla Dancehall will probably be to blame. By Alex Lemonde-Gray