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Their name conjures up the image of a buttoned-down law firm, but this New York trio bridges avant-garde jazz and jam-band workouts, reminiscent of both John Zorn and Phish, with whom they’ve worked. Dark, sinister-sounding tracks like “Bloody Oil” reflect the group’s political outlook. But mostly, the album’s finds joy in such groove-based numbers as the buoyant funk of “New Planet” and the Latin-tinged “Mami Gato.” If the end is nigh, Medeski, Martin & Wood clearly want us all to dance the apocalypso.

Two-thirds of this prairie-rock trio hail from Steinbach, Manitoba and enjoyed acclaim in Britain as The Pets—which prompted one member to ask: “How did a band from Steinbach get into The Sunday Times?” Judging by the sound of the group, now reincarnated as Winnipeg’s Waking Eyes, it all comes down its synthesis of Beatlesque melodies and Stooges-style riffs. Songs like the garage raver “Move On” and the neo-psychedelia of “On a Train” are appealingly tuneful Canrock nuggets. A band to watch.

Toronto’s Jordan has enjoyed an enviable career as a songwriter, having penned hits for Cher, Joe Cocker, and Rod Stewart, who topped the charts with “Rhythm of the Heart.” But Jordan is his own best interpreter, as he proved with “Charlie Parker Loves Me,” the standout track from his This is How Men Cry album. Although here he covers Cole Porter and Ricky Nelson, the best numbers are his own “Shot Down My Heart” and the moving epic “Tears of Hercules,” which rivals Sting’s classic “Fields of Gold” for sheer beauty.

Like Detroit’s White Stripes, Akron, Ohio’s Black Keys is a guitar-and-drums duo that revels in minimalist blues-rock. But the White Stripes are pristine and polished next to the rough-and-ragged sound of singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney, who borrow from the gutbucket blues of labelmates Junior Kimbrough and T-Model Ford. Aside from the tender strains of one ballad, “The Lengths,” this raw, anarchic album bounces around as recklessly as a golf ball in a china shop.

There’s a pixie quality to this pint-sized Toronto singer. But don’t take Slean lightly. Her fourth full-length album is a sophisticated mélange of dark cabaret tunes and bright, piano-laced pop. The opening “Pilgrim” features buzzing orchestral strings, while the dream-like “When Another Midnight” shifts from syncopated groove to operatic chorus. “I’m spreading love like a terrorist now,” Slean sings on the title track, reflecting the album’s joyful tone and sense of possibility even as it alludes to these unsettling times.  

Let’s not and say we did. The Dublin quintet’s sophomore album deserves a juvenile rejoinder, because it’s guilty of trying so desperately to sound grown up. Gone is the innocent embrace of California and the earnest, Byrdsian jingle-jangle that gave The Thrills’ debut, So Much for the City, so much charm. In its place is an awkward attempt at Burt Bacharach-style orchestral pop. But no amount of piano and syrupy strings can disguise the album’s almost total lack of coherent songs. An immature, disastrous mess.

He’s been described as Prince trapped in porn star Ron Jeremy’s body. Not a pretty sight. But the man born Sean Tillman comes by his devotion to the Purple One honestly. A fellow Minneapolitan, Har Mar sings about sex with convincing Prince-like passion on funk workouts like “Cut Me Up” and the crowd-pleasing “Transit.” And, to show he’s more than a one-trick novelty act, the fat, balding performer channels Stevie Wonder on the irresistible “Sugar Pie” and covers Gilbert O’Sullivan’s maudlin “Alone Again.”

Like other bands from Down Under, including The Vines, The D4 and Jet, The Datsuns get saddled with the garage-rock tag. But the New Zealand quartet actually has more in common with American southern rock. On the band’s second album, produced by Led Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones, The Datsuns pay homage to Texan boogie-meisters ZZ Top, especially on the buzzsaw attack of “Messin’ Around.” And they display real heavy-rock fury on scorching tracks like “Blacken My Thumb” and “Get Up! (Don’t Fight It).”

It’s been eight years since Dreamland, the stunning debut that earned the Georgia-born, Paris-raised singer comparisons to Billie Holiday. Now Peyroux (pronounced like the country Peru) is finally back with her second album. Along with distinctive covers of Hank Williams, Bob Dylan, Elliott Smith and Leonard Cohen, she puts her sultry vocals to one tantalizing original, co-written with Norah Jones collaborator Jesse Harris, called “Don’t Wait Too Long.” Hopefully, Peyroux won’t wait as long to record her next.

he Toronto band released only two albums during its brief run in the 1990s, including the Canrock classic Shakespeare My Butt. Blame personal and creative differences. After burying the hatchet, original members Ron Hawkins, Stephen Stanley and David Alexander reunited and have now recorded their first studio album in 10 years. Energetic songs like “…And then the Riot” and “The Last Recidivist” and such elegiac numbers as “Giolietta the Just” prove the beloved Low have lost none of their literate, visceral edge.