The Cure

Album: 4:13 Dream

Label: Geffen

Being billed as the “upbeat” half of what was once planned as a double album, “4:13” sees the legendary Cure downsizing to a four-piece and crafting their best record of the ought’s. Robert Smith & Co. are certainly at their most chipper but considering they are, after all, The Cure, that statement certainly doesn’t mean they’ve suddenly started to resemble Duran Duran.

Teamed up with super producer Keith Uddin (No Doubt/numerous “American Idol” graduates), “4:13” is a spacious, poppy and almost liberating record. Its opener, “Underneath the Stars,” is a down-tempo, dreamy and lush number that features an always-dramatic Robert Smith shouting reverb-tinged vocals over the song’s airy landscape. Next in line is “The Only One,” which is a sparkling guitar pop song which even contends with, but certainly doesn’t surpass, “Friday I’m in Love” with regards to catchiness. “Freakshow” is one of the album’s few missteps. Imagine an impossibly choppy/corny vocal melody coupled with squealing guitars ripped straight from a bad ’70s action flick. “The Hungry Ghost,” “The Perfect Boy” and “This. Here and Now. With You” make up the middle of “4:13,” and borrow heavily from past Cure sounds and thrive in doing so. The closing tracks find the band getting more aggressive (urgent guitars/faster tempos) and don’t mesh well with the rest of the record, but Smith’s impassioned vocals save them. This is a guitar-driven and stripped-down incarnation of The Cure, and for the most part, it works.

“4:13” is sure to be diminished when compared to the band’s heyday 1980s records, but that’s simply unfair. If a skinny jean-clad troupe of 20-somethings were to pen an identical record, it would be hailed as a masterpiece. “4:13” needs to be taken at face value, as a beautifully melancholy rock record that offers equal parts introspection and pop hooks. **** (four stars)

O’Death

Album: Broken Hymns, Limbs, and Skin

Label: Kernado

There’s something disingenuous about a band of young punks hailing from New York who sing songs about the images of a 1930s Appalachian America. It’s an angle, a shtick and, frankly, it’s too easy. By singing about mule skeletons and shattered whiskey bottles, the band aims for depth but end up saying nothing. That’s why O’Death, while being a generally fun listen, lack much lasting value and are quick to grind the nerves.

On “Broken Hymns, Limbs and Skin,” the group continues its path of Americana clichés, frantic fiddling and breakneck tempos. The disc’s opener, “Lowtide” establishes the formula the band rarely deviates from the duration of the record: frantic fiddling, rapidly plucked banjos, Neil Young derived vocals and a repetitively thumping rhythm section. Think Yonder Mountain String Band if they grew up listening to Fugazi and The Pixies. The band is at its best on songs like “Vacant Moan,” “Crawl Through Snow” and “On an Aching Sea” where they slow things the hell down and give the arrangements time to take some interesting Man Man-esque shifts. But, five of the records songs are around two minutes or under and are mostly amphetamine fueled throwaways.

O’Death has some good ideas dwelling underneath their mask of hyper-speed bluegrass, but until they exhibit more diligence in the way they craft their songs, they’ll rightfully be written off as one-trick ponies. As for “Broken Hymns, Limbs, and Skin,” they’re merely Murder By Death rip-offs who hang their hats on alluring imagery with little underlying substance. ** (two and a half stars)

Bloc Party

Album: Intimacy

Label: Atlantic

Bloc Party operates in a very cold spectrum of the musical universe. Their art rock/post-punk leanings provide little room for human touches and that’s what makes “Intimacy” such an enigma. The band’s much celebrated debut “Silent Alarm” excelled in its ability to remain ice cold yet emotive and the follow-up “A Weekend in the City,” while weaker, did the same. It’s on this, their third release, that the band is most at stylistic odds with itself.

Described by frontman Kele Okereke as a “breakup album,” “Intimacy’s” 14 tracks wage a constant war between the machine (drum machines/synths/slick production) and the man (endearing lyrics/emotionally driving guitar parts).

The most vivid realizations of this stark contrast can be found on the disc’s first single “Mercury” and the lush “Signs.” The former is an electro-rocker that suspiciously resembles a bass-heavy M.I.A. song and loses itself in digitalized flourishes over a nauseating chorus. There’s simply too much happening and the song suffers. “Signs,” on the other hand, balances delicacy with heart and limits the experimental indulgences that tend to dehumanize much of “Intimacy.” That said, it also borders on mopey ballad territory and lacks the energy that sets Bloc Party apart from a slew of other art rock indie bands.

“Intimacy” functions best when it finds a balance between organics and experimentation. The driving yet vulnerable “Talons” and the sprawling “Ion Square” are the most fully realized examples of how good “Intimacy” can be and, as an extension, how much potential Bloc Party still has. *** (three stars)