The Displaced “The Displaced” (Self-released)

Compare to: House of Large Sizes, Sonic Youth, Mates of State

Rating: 8

From the first lo-fi guitar chug, it’s the “The” sound kids like so much nowadays: The White Stripes, The Strokes — you get the idea. Keep listening, though, and you’ll find The Displaced is not just another “The.” Owing more to Sonic Youth than to simple anthems of today’s bands, the album is a reminder that the “new thing” didn’t come from a corporate brainstorm — it crawled out of a dive bar, a long time ago.

The Displaced takes it a step further. The album reinvents itself in a very simple manner a few times, with everything from the sonic howl of “30th and El Cajon” to “Stormy Weather” sultry blue.

So far, bands have done pretty well at stripping music down to a minimum. Few have figured out how to make big songs without a big noise. That sound is apparent in “Poseidon.”

“And your lips could sink ships in a cold, cold sea Poseidon,” vocalists/hot item Jen Jansen, bass, and M. Simon Mandel, guitar, harmonically drone. The two trade lines over distorted minimalist head-bobber, but they’re best when they chime in together.

In other words, the band shares more with House of Large Sizes than a romantically involved couple at the helm. While HoLS took a shot at fame 10 years ago, though, The Displaced seems poised to look labels in the eye right now.

Looking — striving maybe — for something to complain about, every song on the album starts out soft and builds from there. It might be the band’s style, but a change of pace could do The Displaced good.

If you’re looking for an end to gang violence of the coastal indie wars, look to the middle ground of the Midwest — or, even easier, look to a band that has traversed the warm, welcome west and the stark, art-rock bourgeoisie east.

The Displaced is your band. And face it, no matter what music you like, it’s a good sign when a band’s so good it dates itself.

— Jeff Mitchell

Lizzie West “Holy Road: Freedom Sings” (Warner Bros.)

Compare to: Kristen Hersh, Lucinda Williams, 10,000 Maniacs

Rating: 6 1/2

Does anybody remember MTV’s “120 Minutes” with Dave Kendall? You know, back when MTV actually played videos all day? Well, if you don’t remember those days or have just chosen to block it out of your mind completely, Lizzie West and her debut album, “Holy Road: Freedom Songs” will definitely jog your memory of an alternative music scene that is, unfortunately, long forgotten.

Lizzie West has spent much of her life traveling the United States and London. Drawing her lyrical inspiration from Jack Kerouac and Leonard Cohen, West makes perhaps her most poignant statement on the CD in “Dusty Turnaround”: “You take that dusty turnaround/ Yellow brick road/ Just remember, man, there is no place like home.”

West’s attempt at love songs doesn’t necessarily fall short. She’s definitely one up on Skid Row’s “I Remember You,” but Bill Withers she’s not. In “See You Through (Conversation),” West incorporates a gospel/soul choir to help her slow, easy stroll through the song. The church-like organ and shimmering guitar adds to the feeling of her tearful declarations: “Like by the blood/ Between the sin and the love/ I will fail, But I will try/ I will see you through.”

West ends the album with the song “Holy Road,” questioning her existence: “And I know a 10-cent tip on a 22-dollar check/ And for these few things I know/ These are the things that I have been told/ And I still don’t know the walk of the holy road.” West continues begging for some kind of explanation of life: “Tell me Lord, please speak clearly now/ Do I live in vain/ For I am human anyway.”

The first time I listened to the CD, I couldn’t figure out where I’d heard West before. Then it hit me. If Natalie Merchant, Dido, and Neil Finn of Crowded House fame had a threesome, Lizzie West would be the lovechild. Her breathy vocalization of the lyrics blended with her seemingly nasal tone of her voice creates a sound not heard since the golden days of 10,000 Maniacs and R.E.M.

— Adam Greenfield

Aphex Twin “26 Remixes for Cash” (Warp)

Compare to: Mouse on Mars, Squarepusher, Plaid

Rating: 8

In his latest release, seminal experimentalist Richard “Aphex Twin” D. James, spares no one from his twisted treatments.

James remixes everyone from industrial cover-boys Nine Inch Nails to experimental godfather Philip Glass to one-hit-wonders Jesus Jones in this grab for cash. While he may rarely, if ever, enjoy working with the artists he’s remixing, James shows that while he may be only doing it for the money, he won’t skimp on creativity.

The 26-track release is divided into two discs, which could possibly be classified as “light” and “dark,” since they differ from each other as drastically as day and night.

Most notably in the collection are the two remixes of NIN. The first remix, “The Beauty of Being Numb, Section B,” begins with a keyboard elegantly meandering atop a crunchy beat. Later on, the sounds of someone spitting through a straw and kazoos take over before the track abruptly ends.

The second remix, “At the Heart of It All,” is probably closer to the original ideas laid out by the industrial godfathers than Reznor ever was.

On the same disc, James takes on Reznor’s inspiration, Meat Beat Manifesto. Once again, James employs jackhammer beats to move the mix, but also brings along moving synths, an idea that has characterized his music since his early days.

The real highlights are when James puts his special touch on the academics. Minimalist Gavin Bryar’s track, “Raising of the Titanic,” is treated with kid gloves. James leaves the bulk of the track intact, and only adds percussion, creating a haunting piece.

Philip Glass’ “Heroes” gets a little more work done. David Bowie’s dramatic vocals are twisted in all directions, creating a final product that is nothing short of a schizophrenic delusion.

The free-jazz flow of Nobukazu Takemura is left intact while James layers ear-piercing sonic distortion, before bringing it back to the familiar soothing string section. In his take on his own track, “Selected Ambient Works 2, CD 1, Track 2,” James removes the ambient and restores it to its mish-mash acid routine.

Not every mix is honed to precision, but this double-disc set is an interesting walk through the past catalogue of a prolific producer.

— Josh Nelson

Yeah Yeah Yeahs “Fever to Tell” (Interscope)

Compare to: The Hives, Rainer Maria, The Kills

Rating: 6

Remember the Americanized version of “Godzilla” in 1998? During the months leading up to the film’s release, it was impossible to avoid the constant onslaught of TV spots and soulless musical collaborations (read: Puff Daddy featuring Jimmy Page) for the big-budget flick. But when the film hit theaters, the hype was bigger than the movie itself.

Such is the case with Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ first full-length monster, “Fever to Tell.” The word “hype” doesn’t begin to describe the countless interviews and reviews about New York’s latest and dirtiest. Sadly, there’s way too much fill and not enough thrill to consider this album the beginning of the next music revolution.

On “Rich,” the band does everything in its power to separate itself from its oft-compared predecessors like the Strokes and the Vines, and for at least this one song, it succeeds. Nintendo-era synths send the song to the stratosphere, seconds before lead singer Karen O’s sandpaper-lined vocal chords bring it back to the beer-stained New York clubs from whence it came.

From there, however, it’s downhill fast.

A few tracks — most notably, “Maps” and its finger-flicking guitar goodness — manage to make strange for the sake of strange work. But others, such as “Black Tongue,” are little more than pouty grrl rock gone wild.

The guitars are distorted. The attitude’s still there. But the unlikely mix of grit-in-your-teeth guitar rock and avant-garde art house weirdness isn’t enough of a gimmick to pull off 37 minutes. In essence, this is the album The Strokes would’ve made if they’d lived a little closer to a coffeehouse.

— Aaron Ladage