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On their rebound from major-label rejection, Brooklyn's Longwave unloads a barrage of righteous guitar anthems, suppressing any prior dreamy tendencies like they're hiding a nasty little secret.

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Gimmicky yet compelling, the delicate second album by Miami's Postmarks presents 11 numerically titled covers in ascending order, plus Sesame Street's cute "Pinball Number Count." Languid Tim Yehezkely sings like she's dissolving into the mist, staying true to the elegant anxiety of Bowie's "Five Years" and transforming Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" into a touching reverie.

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Six albums on, these Scots aim to reverse the creeping bloat in their elegant pop, though bad habits die hard. Despite refreshingly brief songs, frontman Fran Healy can't resist self-conscious vocal flourishes that insist he's imparting great truths (shades of Bono), and the bombastic arrangements encourage Andy Dunlop to uncork cheesy, stadium-seeking guitar riffs.

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Resurfacing in 2002 after more than two decades in obscurity, San Diego's Gary Wilson -- who has prowled stages completely wrapped in gauze and duct tape -- recharges that unsettling outsider persona on his fourth album. While the chintzy synthesizers echo wistful R&B, his trembling voice adds a creepy edge to these tales of unrequited love, as Wilson singles out his objects of desire by name.

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He started out on Stiff Records in the late '70s alongside Elvis Costello; she made her name on the New York scene in the '90s with witty, country-tinged studies of everyday people. Together, they play lovably unassuming pop, mixing jangly guitars, cheesy keyboards, and unkempt voices to chronicle life's small disappointments and pleasures.

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Brooklyn's Damian Hess might be a leading exponent of nerdcore rap, but that doesn't mean he's clumsy or clueless. As MC Frontalot, he excels at zany, free-flowing rhymes set to chunky beats that recall the more light-hearted tracks of '80s hip-hoppers 3rd Bass and De La Soul.