Beck “Guero”

(Interscope)

Compare to: Cibo Matto, Beastie Boys, They Might Be Giants

It’s not like Beck had anything to prove with his newest album, “Guero.” With nine CDs already under his belt and a well-established reputation for odd rhymes, he probably could have recorded nonsense and fans would gobble it up.

But, more than two years after the release of his mournfully symphonic album “Sea Change,” this 34-year-old dorky white guy from Southern California has shown his rhymes will continue to be more substantive than goofy.

“Guero” has all the potential of a summer road trip after graduation — something different awaits listeners around every corner, while the exhilarating experience of your travels blends, little by little, into a tangible recording you can carry with you the rest of your life. Beck easily rounds the corners of rap, Latin and ’80s beats to make most of the album funky and fresh.

Growing up has had its drawbacks for Beck, however, as the playfulness so prevalent in “Odelay” is muted. There are exceptions to the rule — both the single “E-Pro” and “Que Onda Guero” reach that raucous energy level — but, especially near the end of the album, his work nearly becomes stodgy.

“Guero” may be Beck’s victorious comeback from the depths of despair, but this album proves he didn’t escape unscathed. Most of his lyrics maintain some bleakness — even if they are still bizarre.

— Alicia Ebaugh

Spitalfield

“Stop Doing Bad Things”

(Victory)

Compare to: Food Fighters, Jimmy Eat World, June

Humorous song titles with snappy straight-ahead rock ‘n’ roll is the best way to describe “Stop Doing Bad Things,” the latest offering from Spitalfield.

Song titles include “So I Heard You Joined a Convent,” “Gold Dust vs. The State Of Illinois,” “Van Buren” and the song-title ode to SNL’s Celebrity Jeopardy skit — “Texas with a Dollar Sign.”

These titles really have nothing whatsoever to do with the lyrics, but they do add to the fun experience of the record.

The music is solid from start to finish and Spitalfield proves it can rock out and not have to conform to a stereotype to be appealing.

Spitalfield lays a beat down exactly how it should be done — with an abundance of great instrument and vocal melodies and solid, syncopated drumming.

The only thing missing from this album is slower songs, but Spitalfield is great at throwing musical punches and not lightening up the mood. The band definitely takes an active approach to songwriting.

Thoughts of boredom will never even cross the minds of both fans and first-time Spitalfield listeners.

Just when it seems like a song is going to stagnate and mellow out, Spitalfield throws out another aggressive guitar riff or drum fill to keep the momentum going.

— Dan Hopper

The Suicide File (Indecision)

“Some Mistakes You Never Stop Paying For”

Compare to: The Hope Conspiracy, Give Up the Ghost, Bane

If consistency is the criterion by which all bands are judged, then The Suicide File would be the best thing to happen to rock ‘n’ roll in a long time.

“Some Mistakes You Never Stop Paying For” is a collection of songs compiled from the band’s seven-inch splits and demo tracks. But for those who don’t know the history of this now-defunct band, this album could easily be passed off as one single release.

All the songs stick to the standard Boston-influenced, punk-rock driven, hardcore formula. The band, however, manages to throw in enough rock ‘n’ roll rhythms to make it sound interesting enough to merit a listen.

Besides the upbeat catchiness of its melodies, the band’s diamond in the rough is its lyrics. Most of the lyrics on the album’s 18 songs are ripe with a tongue-in-cheek pessimism delivered through vocalist Dave Weinberg’s scathing screams.

Weinberg applies his left-wing philosophies to topics ranging from national politics on songs like “Fuck Fox News” to his distaste for insincere bands on songs like “I Hate Rock ‘n’ Roll,” each time making a strong point while keeping a punk-rock attitude and never coming off as preachy or overly serious.

Overall, there are no surprises on this record, but no letdowns either. This is exactly what it bills itself as — honest, sincere, gritty and, most of all, angry, angry hardcore.

— Dante Sacomani

Lemon Jelly

“’64 — ’95” (XL)

Compare to: Towa Tei, Mr. Scruff, Wagon Christ

In the musical pantry of generic jams and moldy mixes, Lemon Jelly stands apart as a true confiture — a delicious jar of preserved fruit.

Fred Deakin and Nick Franglen have been known as pioneers of contemporary chill-out, marked by vinyl-style album designs worthy of framing since the late ’90s.

“’64 — ’95” refers not to some kind of crazy Brian Wilson stunt, but to the span of years from which the group draws samples. From heavy metal and Euro house to ’70s pop and R&B, a myriad of styles are all swirled into a sugary snack one might expect to find at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. This extreme eclecticism sets the stage for Lemon Jelly’s first concept album.

Adding to the ambition, the group has simultaneously released a DVD to visually complement the entire album with computer animated music videos.

Some tracks taste like freshly-squeezed juice; others resemble an aged sweet wine. Unfortunately, there are enough bruises and rotten dance beats on the album to keep “’64 — ’95” from matching the innovation of Lemon Jelly’s 21st century sounds.

— Andrew Mabe