Mondo Topless
Freaking Out
Get Hip Recordings
Street: 07.31
Mondo Topless = The Seeds + The Cynics + The Animals + Iggy Pop and the Stooges + Ramones + The Rolling Stones
Freaking Out lives up to its name and ignites our innate, spastic, rock n’ roll dance firebug. “Magic Potion” emits a certain minor-mode evil, yet retains the garage rock boogie germ, as its chorus line evinces: “How do you feel?/I feel fine.” Mondo Topless shines with their varying tempos and rhythmic sensibility—drummer Steve Thrash’s tom-drumming in “Get Me to the World On Time” gets that booty bumpin’ just as easily as “Get Low,” and the double-time speed-up in “Gonna Find a Cave” propels the song’s momentum thrillingly forward. The album does kind of get off to a slow start with the first two tracks—the opener sounds somewhat like a late-80s family sitcom theme, and “I Ain’t Dead Yet,” although good, doesn’t deliver the initial speed we’re looking for. Pound for pound, though, Mondo Topless have put in the man-hours to get your party movin’ and a’groovin’. –Alexander Ortega

The Morlocks
The Morlocks Play Chess
Popantipop
Street: 08.24
The Morlocks = The Sonics + Los Saicos + Howlin’ Wolf
This is probably the greatest idea ever. Take a whisky-soaked garage outfit that’s been honing their craft for a solid 25 years and record them playing 12 of the grittiest, most terrifying tunes to ever shape the face of rock n’ roll. I mean, these are songs by Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, and the rest of those Chess Records dudes. (Aah! Get the title now?) Absolute classics. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This thing isn’t flawless. The production is a little too goofy to let these songs meet their potential bad-assery, and of course you’d be better off tracking down and listening to the original recordings, but this is a fun record. The band is good, and the songs are simple and fast. This is American blues and rock n’ roll at its wildest and most dangerous. –Nate Perkins

Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band
Where the Messengers Meet
Dead Oceans
Street: 08.03
Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band = Evangelicals + Crystal Antlers + Wolf Parade (2008-2010)
I joined my first and only band at age 16. I played a Casio keyboard called the rapman and tried to play some primitive riffs on a guitar. Needless to say, I was pretty proud of myself. By the time Seattle’s MSHVB’s second album will be released on Dead Oceans, drummer Marhall Verdoes will be 15. This kid can destroy a drumset. In fact, his steady backbeat and occasionally thrilling triplets form the backbone of MSHVB’s swirling, classic-rock inspired pastiche of dueling-guitar/Moog organ psychedelia and grandiose chamber-pop. Kind of makes you feel like you’ve wasted your life, huh? Just keep in mind the age disparity between Marshall and 28-year-old bandleader and older brother Benjamin Verdoes is more than a decade. Where the Messengers Meet is full of twisting, turning melodies and start-stop song dynamics that sound endlessly assured, confident and playful, yet a little sad. (Urban: 09.11) –Ryan Hall

NYMPH
Self-Titled
Social Registry
Street: 09.28
NYMPH = Gang Gang Dance + I.U.D. + Spell Talk
Any intro to an album that contains tambourines, bells, primal screams and Hendrix-inspired guitar like this deserves many late-night listens. Some might discount this music as some sort of shit “noise rock,” but isn’t all rock noisy? Rhetorical/uninspired questions aside, the vocalizing on intro track “ii-Yo” (the Romanization of the aforementioned “primal scream”) is so well-complemented by the guitar and tribal-inspired drums on this track that more traditional lyrics are easily forgotten—all you need is one phrase, apparently. A certain mind frame makes all music of this sort go down easier—specifically, for tracks over seven minutes long (three out of the five total on this album). And thank holy fuck there are some longer cuts here—the jazz saxophone exploration on “Reeds of Osirion” needs at least the six minutes allotted. This label is one of Brooklyn’s finest, and their pedigree of bands, like Gang Gang Dance, Sian Alice Group and Pyschic Ills, is only improved by the addition of NYMPH. –JP

Profanatica
Disgusting Blasphemies Against God
Hells Headbangers
Street: 08.31
Profanatica = Sarcofago + Blasphemy + Black Witchery
New Profanatica, three years in the making—is it worth the wait and praise? Shit, yes, DBAG is over the-top blasphemic and pissed-as-shit, not only in its raw black metal glories, but in its huge, bottom-end bass guitar and drum assault that pierces ears like a sewing machine relentlessly running over them. There are purposely many moments of the album’s songs that make a point to crap all over what could be considered a melody. Not to mention the album has songs titled “Smashing Religious Fucking Statues,” “Fuck the Blood of the Lamb,” and “ Pious Piece of Shit,” to name a few. It’s purposely raw and intense, and while lyrically, it may seem a bit silly, the man behind Profanatica at the moment, Paul Ledney, doesn’t sound like he’s trying too hard to deliver his utmost hatred and anger right smack in your face. Said anger is one of the main points of Profanatica—to offend not only the mainstream, but offer listeners the chance to say fuck it all and just blast it the hell out. Profanatica are already underground heroes and DBAG is one massive, brutal overdose of raw negativity in audio madness: Own it. –Bryer Wharton