COODER - His four-decade career is simply amazing.

Forty years ago, Ry Cooder proved his estimable musical abilities as a guitarist and songwriter by way of his group work with the likes of Taj Mahal and Captain Beefheart in the '60s and his numerous, diverse and acclaimed solo albums throughout the '70s. In the '80s, Cooder became the go-to guy for atmospheric soundtrack accompaniment, his spidery slide work providing mood and menace for Paris, Texas, The Long Riders, The Border, Crossroads, Alamo Bay and Steel Magnolias, among many others. In the '90s, Cooder made a brief return to group work as Little Village (with Nick Lowe, John Hiatt and Jim Keltner), moved into world-music territory and resurrected the careers of long forgotten Cuban musical masters with the Grammy-winning Buena Vista Social Club.

Cooder has raised the bar so many times in his career, one suspects he'd have run out of jump by this time, but his most recent work is proof positive that Cooder is in little danger of missing his own high benchmarks. His new album, I, Flathead, completes his ambitious California trilogy; 2005's Chavez Ravine translated the true tale of the expansionist razing of a Latino neighborhood in the '40s, and last year's My Name Is Buddy looked at the highs and lows of the 20th century through the perspective of a wise tabby cat in a musical voice that recalled Woody Guthrie and Hank Williams.

I, Flathead is perhaps the most ambitious of the three, as Cooder literally presents the story of Kash Buk, his band the Klowns and his pal Shakey the alien; a 95-page novella accompanies the album. Continuing his lyrical themes of displacement and disorienting change in post-war California through noirish odes to salt-flat drag racing, the rise of Disneyland, scruffy roadhouses and the seedy characters associated with each of them, Cooder relies on nearly every musical style he's championed over the course of his amazing four-decade career.

Cooder delivers the Tom Waitsian jazz of "Can I Smoke in Here?" and "Flathead One More Time," the exuberant Keith Richards/John Hiatt swagger of "Ridin' with the Blues," the Johnny Cash (duh!) sound of "Johnny Cash," the crystal-clean '50s country of "Steel Guitar Heaven," the Tex-Mex shuffle and political subtext of "Pink-O Boogie" and the loungey sway of "My Dwarf Is Getting Tired." Cooder's brilliance, throughout his catalog in general and in his California trilogy specifically, lies in the fact that he can conceptually relate a literal or figurative tale and transform it into engaging, memorable and spine-tingling music.

G. Love

Superhero Brother (Brushfire)

It's been nearly a decade and a half since G. Love and Special Sauce quenched music listeners with "Cold Beverage," the infectious single from their eponymous debut, which was a winning combination of street-corner folk busking and loose-limbed hip-hop. In the intervening time, Love - both with and without Special Sauce - has explored a variety of styles, including soul, psychedelia and straight-up funk, but always in combination with the freewheeling hip-hop spin that marked his early work.

Love's most recent output has found him free of label expectations - he signed with buddy Jack Johnson's Brushfire label three years ago - and he's risen to the occasion with 2004's The Hustle, a definitive return to his first album vibe, and 2006's Lemonade, a lush all-star collaborative affair. For Superhero Brother, his latest Brushfire joint, Love returns to a stripped-down studio line-up while also looking back at his sonic timeline to assemble a syncopated hybrid of everything he's done from the start. "Georgia Brown" jazzes up the simple groove that made "Cold Beverage" so appealing, while "Crumble" oozes Philly soul with the deftness of a hip-hop Delfonics. Through the goosey Hammond B3 blues of "Grandmother," the urban street-corner samba of "Peace, Love and Happiness," the deep dub psych soul of "Who's Got the Weed" and the subway-tunnel Delta blues of the socially/politically conscious title track, Love makes a slight return to the kitchen-sink methodology of his middle efforts while employing the more basic approach that defined his debut. - Brian Baker

Damiera

Quiet Mouth Loud Hands (Equal Vision Records)

Damiera's sophomore release, Quiet Mouth Loud Hands, wasn't an easy album to make. It was recorded in an old science wing of an abandoned school in Buffalo, New York. Having gone through a complete line-up change following their first album, the only remaining member was founder Dave Raymond. Raymond, who's the lead vocalist and guitarist of the band, sought the help of friends from Iowa and producer Jayson DeZuzio to round out the band. Damiera sounds like what would happen if you threw a lot of Coheed and Cambria into a mixing bowl and added a little bit of Minus the Bear and then just kindly folded them together.

The Coheed and Cambria influence is most relevant in "Weights for the Waiting," which has Raymond hitting high notes to the sound of heavy distortion rattling behind his vocals. The comparisons to Minus the Bear are most obvious in "Chromatica" which has guitarist Steve Downs giving a Dave Knudson (Minus the Bear)-like finger-tapping guitar solo. This song is also made more intriguing by a wise engineering decision to fade the music during the first part of the song and have the vocals echo like a chorus. "Teacher, Preacher" is the band's attempt at radio play with a Maroon 5-like song and doesn't mesh with the rest of the material. But all in all, Quiet Mouth Loud Hands is a good mix of songs ranging from pop to metal. - Ryan MacLennan

Sigur Rós

Me_ Su_ Í Eyrum Vi_ Spilum Endalaust (XL Recordings)

The title of the new Sigur Rós album translates to "With a Buzz in Our Ears We Play Endlessly," but it might as well just mean, "We've Changed our Sound!" Yes, after four studio albums of sounding relatively the same, the Icelandic quartet has changed things around for its fifth outing, Me_ Su_ Í Eyrum Vi_ Spilum Endalaust. The opening track, "Gobbledigook," immediately sounds like something Animal Collective cooked up for a recent record of theirs, or even something that fellow Icelanders Mum recorded for their last album. The next track, "Inní mér syngur vitleysingur," churns and pulses with the urgency of the Arcade Fire. It isn't until "Festival" - the fifth track on the album - that the band starts to sound like the one that won acclaim so long ago.

It's a nine-and-a-half minute epic that's full of Jónsi Birgisson's soaring Hopelandic vocals, along with urgent percussion and swelling strings. "All Alright" will certainly be the song that has the most ink spilled over it, though. It's the band's first track sung in English. But it's the last track on the album, and Birgisson sings it the way he sings the 10 Icelandic tracks. It ends up seeming more like an afterthought than a permanent change in the band's approach. So what to make of the band's roughly half-album foray into a different world of sound? Perhaps it was bored with the path it's chosen. After all, even a band that plays endlessly is likely to find itself growing tired of the same thing. - Jeremy Willets

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson (Say Hey Records)

Brooklyn's busily monikered Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson (MBAR from here out) arrives with an impressively pedigreed debut. The 23-year-old songwriter enlisted the help of some well-respected friends for his eponymous bow. TV on the Radio's Kyp Malone provides some vocal assistance, and he also gets a hand from three-fourths of Grizzly Bear (aka the greatest band in the world - give it time, you'll see it my way). GB's Chris Taylor serves as producer, although there is little of that band's sonic trademark in evidence here. This is MBAR's bag, and he showcases a fine set of songs, an impassioned vocal delivery and a world-weary lyrical style, all of which belie his youth.

The record opens with its strongest track, although this is no great shame; the majestic "Buriedfed" may be simply the best song of the year. MBAR brings a sing-song vocal style to play over a slowly growing arrangement that ends in a swirl of double-tracked vocals and a crashing crescendo. While the rest of the record may not quite live up to that track, there are plenty of fine moments throughout. "The Debtor" owes a bit to Mark Anthony Thompson (who records as Chocolate Genius these days), and several other songs bear a woozy Tom Waits resemblance. There's still room to grow ("Above the Sun" seems like an unfinished sketch, for example), but MBAR has a sound and wisdom that is rare in a young songwriter. With help from such ably talented friends, Robinson turns in an impressive debut. - Chris Drabick

The Anniversary

Devil on our Side: B-Sides and Rarities (Vagrant)

Five years since the Anniversary, a five-piece group from Lawrence, Kansas, broke up, its former record label Vagrant has decided to release a collection of b-sides & rarities entitled Devil on Our Side. This two-disc set is a masterful blend of early emo and guitar-heavy rock. The first cut of the rarities, "Fletcher Durbin," demonstrates how much emphasis the band placed on heavy and perfectly timed guitar riffs, recalling There's Nothing Wrong with Love-era Built to Spill. "Alright for Now" perhaps gives the most perfectly timed acoustic guitar slow-down and helps to demonstrate the diversity encapsulated by this early emo band.

The Anniversary could make the Pixies proud with its never- perfect but always right combination of male and female vocals throughout this rarities release. "Lowtide and Hospital Bed" provides a glimpse at the band at its most vulnerable and affectionate, often balancing gritty guitar and pounding drums, offset with the floating playing of a violin. "This Heart Is a Lonely Hunter" is Adrianne Verhoeven's crowning achievement as a keyboardist as she pounds away in a Spencer Krug of Wolf Parade-like manner. Overall, this is a superb release and makes you wonder what this band could have accomplished had it only stayed together. - RM