On its fifth album Fandango, Wellington, NZ combo the Phoenix Foundation doesn’t so much eschew the eclecticism of previous efforts as employ greater continuity

Bruiser is an entrancing album from start to finish and a promising peek into what The Duke Spirit's future holds.

Though some lyricless segments blur together, a few stand out.

Derivative? Sure. But also blissfully compelling and entertaining.

Smith matches oddball narratives with clever, catchy tunes; he’s a really good songwriter. If he were a little happier or a little less prone to baroque eccentricity, he’s probably have a bigger following--but he wouldn’t be Sonny Smith, and that would be a shame.

While the tunefulness of these tracks may not be so obvious--and in many cases, almost entirely elusive--she entices her listeners to peel back the layers and discover the shimmering glow that emanates from within.

The one thing missing from Dude, The Obscure, are a few more raucous, upbeat tracks, but that can easily be rectified with a new Diamond Rugs record.

Suffice it to say those looking for an album on the order of early Squeeze classics like Argybargy or East Side Story won’t be disappointed. Packed with winsome melodies, joy and jubilation (made all the more expressive by titles like “Nirvana,” “Beautiful Game,” “Sunny” and the all too appropriate “Top of the Form”), Cradle to the Grave is a stunning example of the brilliance Difford and Tilbrook seemingly command at their fingertips.

N.E.W. feels more like a victory lap than a new beginning. Nothing inherently wrong with that, and every track is here is at least solid, but it’s best to put expectations of revelation out of your mind before hitting the “play” button.

Graveyard incorporates as many repurposed elements of Free and the Faces as it does from Sabbath, putting more melody into their attack, and Nilsson responds with the most nuanced vocals of his career so far.

Away has some fine moments, but is an LP completists will get the most mileage out of, perhaps as that curio figure in an artist’s evolution to somewhere else.

The same basic sound is here, but a bit dancier and more electronic groove. Not nearly as much of the straight pop or shoegazey stuff.

In the grand scheme of things this is not epochal work. In the world of rock ‘n’ roll this is to the Rolling Stones or Bruce Springsteen as Chausson or Bridge were to Wagner or Mahler. But those lighter composers had their charms and pleasures, and with Herein Wild so does Frankie Rose.

They still have that dirty, carefree, uncompromising vibe, but on Underneath the Rainbow it’s able to be tamed, morphing into melodic garage rock that’s as catchy and easily digestible as it is rugged and in-your-face.

There are no hedonistic celebrations at the level of Wild Onion’s “Strawberry Smoothie” here, as many of the tempos have downshifted to soulful; nor do any of the hooks sink quite as deeply as “Mirror of Time” did.

Lyrics are hard to fathom, and, apparently, mostly improvised, but snatches of words suggest the same general mindset as the music.

The evolution may be jarring to diehards who loved the band’s take on old-time string band folk, but Black Prairie’s skill at playing its own version of rock brushes aside any carping.

You have an album that on balance is worth the effort it took to produce. But it's a precarious balance.

Unfinished Business doesn't breach new terrain, but then again, there's really no need.

The final product can both unnerve and captivate, though not at the same time. As far as consistency, well that's another story.

Look Closer sits in a similar wheelhouse as most Daptone projects, working a familiar vein of late ’60s/early ’70s soul.

This former power pop band currently eschews the pop in favor of the power. Melody is less of an essential, but the sheer verbosity suggests that they’re opting for a stadium-sized sound.

Time Off takes its time getting where it’s going, but deftly reaches its destination.

The weakest element here is Hawks' voice. It's not distractingly bad, but at times it sounds like he's attempting to sing better than he may actually be capable of. But overall the effect is a good one.

Repetition and simplicity balance the sadly beautiful sounds on Wabi-Sabi; an eccentric album that will find its home with those who seek something creatively different in their music on a mellow, rainy day.

Revelation continues to tow that tradition, with every song providing different twists at every juncture.

Majestically sad (“Almost Home,” “Saints”), soulfully sad (“A Case For Shame”), atmospherically sad (“Going Wrong”), trip hop sad (“The Last Day,” “Tell Me”), Northern soul sad (“Don’t Love Me”) are all interesting but often too subtle variations that almost make you want to force feed him Zoloft at times.

Overall, the EP--which would earn a higher grade if there were simply more of it--captures a contemplative Wareham midway between Luna’s driving pulse and the darker fare on Dean & Britta’s 13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests.