Look out! The raging Armenian madmen are upon us, and they have unleashed an all-out metal blitzkreig of sound full of ranting, ravings and psychotic yearnings for justice in an unjust world. Be careful. These guys are mad as hell!

With their third album, affectionately titled “Steal This Album,” (a not-so-subtle reference to those of us who practice the illegal downloading and burning of CDs) Serj Tankian and company take yet another plunge into debauchery, cynicism and everything socially unacceptable.

The album is packed with 16 songs, most of which are less than three minutes long.

The album also comes packaged with no CD booklet, but there are five different designs to choose from, four of which are symbolic of each individual member of the band.

In the lead-off track “Chic N’ Stu,” Tankian reflects on an advertisement that caused him to lust for pizza. From “Chic N’ Stu’s” craving for pizza to themes of anti-government, anti-religion, and depression presented in tracks such as “A.D.D.” and “Boom,” Tankian’s insanity never ceases. Tankian’s dark, sadistic lyrical onslaught is enough to make even a strong-willed mother cry. What the album lacks visually, it makes up for in content.

The album has more of a nu-metal feel, with less screaming and more vocal melodies. Why the change? Only System themselves know.

Don’t worry. The screaming is still there, but in smaller quantities. The music may have changed, but the attitude is still the same. Who would have thought that an album full of rarities and B-sides could be so solid?

With the tracks “Inner Vision,” “Boom,” “A.D.D.” and “Bubbles,” System not only has four potential hits, but they have proven that their reign as trans-genre gods is far from over. You might love them. You might hate them. Either way, you can’t get rid of them.

— Dan Hopper

Even though The Gloria Record has been around for five years, “Start Here” is the first full-length offering from this Austin, Texas, five-piece.

“Start Here” is also the name of the first song on the album — the ironic title also insinuates that the band’s two previous EPs only hinted at the cohesion and maturity exercised on the newest release. This is the first album with a solidified lineup, and The Gloria Record actually sounds comfortable in its new skin after trading the old for an indie rock growl.

Although two members were in Mineral, one of the flag-bearers for the post-punk movement, they aren’t trying to ride the coattails of their former catalog, and don’t need to. “Start Here” is on the verge of surpassing the Mineral backlog, if it hasn’t already.

Chris Simpson’s wavering vocals and earnest lyrics are almost second stage to the melodic precision created by the music’s ebbs and flows and layers of looping, swirling guitars and keyboards. The atmosphere is thick, the production is high quality and the songs are epic.

Simpson evokes his infant self in “I Was Born In Omaha,” a song about, aptly enough, his birth. The track begins as an acoustic-driven homage to his mother, and leisurely evolves into an almost seven-minute song with electric guitar loops, twinkling keys and sparse, tinkling percussion.

The closer, “Ambulance,” begins with looping acoustic guitar and a sedated Simpson, whispering shyly over the ethereal backdrop. “Ambulance/ Will you be in time/ To save my heart/ From disconnecting now?” Simpson sings his laments sweetly and sleepily over the swirling backdrop that eventually gives rise to fuzzy guitars, searing keyboards and distorted, electrified lyrics — “Better feel it while you can love/ Feel it while you can/ Give yourself to love, love.”

“Start Here” is a dreamy, hypnotic album intense with emotion and imagery. If this is merely the start of The Gloria Record, the outlook looks good.

— Erin Randolph

Occasionally a true singer-songwriter emerges from the masses, one who can take any topic or word — no matter how vile — and make it sound pretty. Owen is one of those artists.

Mike Kinsella, of American Football and Joan of Arc fame, writes, performs and records his own musical laments under the Owen moniker. Kinsella’s acoustic guitar is sparse, percussion is simple and lyrics are translated through a breathy whisper, emphasizing some words while others are lost in an exhale.

Kinsella’s voice succeeds where Chris Carrabba from Dashboard Confessional’s fails — it’s brimming with emotion without coming off as nasal or whiny.

The Polyvinyl release, “No Good For No One Now,” is seven delicate tracks that, with its sighed vocals, make you feel like you’re being let in on some soulful secret.

Kinsella’s croon is so innocent in nature that the presence of cuss words on numerous tracks is dissonant to the ears. The profanity, however, shows a raw honesty in the lyrics.

Though “No Good For No One Now” was recorded in his mom’s basement, Kinsella is anything but a mama’s boy. Track three, “Poor Souls,” is a song about getting drunk and getting laid masked under a beautifully fragile product. “I breathe in deep and I swear to God I’ll die if I go home alone tonight,” Kinsella whispers gently about last call and the last chance for a companion for the night.

A ruined relationship provides the climate of track four, “The Ghost of What Should’ve Been.” Looping guitar, gentle percussion and Kinsella’s painful recreation of a room in which everything reminds him of his failure in a relationship create a mournful, moody piece.

Though he is merely treading ground already laid out by artists like Elliott Smith, Owen’s “No Good For No One Now” is still a worthwhile album. Kinsella’s organic approach to songwriting is both appealing and tireless.

— Erin Randolph