Released on the ultra-cool label that saw the Black Keys, RL Burnside and Hayden released, Plunder, Beg and Curse is the debut album release from Oxford, Mississippi band, Colour Revolt. And while this isn't blues, it is a bluesy mix of the finest indie and rock - think Queens of the Stone Age (especially Mark Lanegan QoTSA) mixed with Pavement. Even some early Cream, perhaps. There are guitars crashing about all over the place when the mood sets in, but they take their time to do so, building dynamically - adding edge and power rather than riffs. If other genre-bending bands like The Walkmen or Modest Mouse float your boat, Colour Revolt (they use the 'English English' spelling of 'colour', following an idea in Edwin Abbott's 19th Century Flatland) are a nailed-on certainty. Opener Naked & Red, released as a free mp3, is the closest to QoTSA, but if it hooks you, the rest of the album is just as strong, even if it is way less obvious - this is an album that takes time to get to know you, like an old city rather than a faux Disneyland recreation. It is dark, in various shades, gothic, grungey and simply wonderful.

ACE rating 9/10

Whatever J Mascis turns his hand to at the moment, great things result. Witch is something on the side from Dinosaur Jr (although the phrase 'side project' is frowned upon), and sees him pounding drums instead of melting lead guitar amplifiers. With Dave Sweetapple on bass and vocals, and Kyle Thomas on guitar, Witch come across like the ADHD child of Black Sabbath and the Smashing Pumpkins - there is no subtlety to anything - the drums are thrashed to within an inch of their lives, the bass is fuzzed up and punky, the guitar shreds like a raging 70s dinosaur. The sound is determinedly lo-fi - it's almost as if the engineer threw in one microphone to the rehearsal room and stood back to protect his ears - but that adds to the live, raw feel. Paralyzed doesn't sound like an album that was polished, or even over-rehearsed, and that fits its vibe. It is organic in its hostility - these elder gentlemen play like angry 17-year olds in a garage. If a fuzzed-til-it-screams sonic wall is what you're looking for, Paralyzed delivers in spades.

ACE rating 8/10

American Music Club are a band musicians like to namecheck as influential - especially, if, like Wilco, Richmond Fontaine, or Lambchop, you lean towards a certain type of Americana that leaves out mandolins and pedal steel for well-written songs and an intelligent delivery. Mark Eitzel's battle with alcoholism has directed the path the band has taken, from California and Mercury to some of the later, less well-received discs (and the 1994 to 2004 hiatus). In truth, The Golden Age is not in the top tier of AMC albums - it recalls Bread and later Eagles as much as anything, and has an air of written-to-a-deadline about some of the songs. The depth that Eitzel was able to bring to a lyric like Johnny Mathis's Feet is missing on this 9th album, and the overall effect is a deep, abiding snooziness - with brushed drums, synth strings and nary a memorable tune in the set, The Golden Age may recall the early 70s in feel, but not melody. Eitzel aims for wistful recollection, and mostly gets it, but there isn't much life in the album. It is nice enough, but anyone coming to AMC via this record will wonder what all the fuss was about.

ACE rating 6/10