Spiritualized is one of many 90s bands struggling with relevance in the new millenium (see Garbage, Guided by Voices), and with records as towering as Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space, they seem in special danger of never escaping their 90s shadow. Yet, Jason Pierce continually proves that he’s one of the most creative, relatable frontmen of all time, and Sweet Heart Sweet Light is no exception. From the endearing cover art to the deliciously catchy first single “Hey Jane,” Pierce seems to be coming out of both the druggy haze of his early material and the heavy-handed gospel tropes of his most recent material. As a result, Sweet Heart is a full-bodied, chaotic, bright, and resolutely optimistic rock album.

The best Spiritualized tracks (“Shine a Light,” “I Think I’m in Love,” “Cop Shoot Cop”) have always thrived on repetition, and the two cornerstones of this album follow suit. “Hey Jane” starts as a jangle-pop banger, but collapses midway only to be rebuilt as a stunning krautrock jam that builds to a cathartic release of the chorus “Sweet heart, sweet light, sweet heart, love of my life,” which for all its simplicity only gathers emotional weight as it’s repeated. “So Long You Pretty Thing,” the album’s equally brilliant closer, begins as a duet between Pierce and his daughter, which smoothly flows into a ballad with surprisingly direct religious-themed lyrics. As always, though, the “Jesus” and “God” evoked by Pierce is a symbolic deity, an escape from his problems of attachment to women, material possession, and drugs of all kinds (on this album it’s prescription drugs, a decidedly more sinister dependence). “So Long” ultimately explodes into the bittersweet mantra “So long you pretty thing, God save your little soul. The music that you played so hard ain’t on your radio. And all your dreams of diamond rings, and all that rock n roll can bring. So sail on, so long,” which also gathers considerable strength through repetition.

But Sweet Heart Sweet Light is far more than two long-form, somewhat formulaic tracks. In between, there are pop gems like “Little Girl” and “Freedom.” “Get What You Deserve” is also a stunning, free-form track built around string flourishes, subtle distortion, distant drum rolls, and some of Pierce’s best, most concise lyrics: “Used to care but I took care of that… I lost all of my affection.” The atmosphere here is often typically cynical, but although one of the track titles is “Life is a Problem,” Sweet Heart Sweet Light is a much more obviously sentimental album than many may be used to with Spiritualized. But at a certain point in an artist’s career, dealing with the same themes in the same way isn’t going to be cathartic. God, sex, religion, and drugs all make an appearance here as usual, but it’s filtered through what might be considered a call to arms, a life-affirming desire to head for the top even when it seems impossible.

8.5 / 10

Port of Morrow is one of those albums that I hate reviewing, because there’s nothing particularly wrong with it but it’s just not that exciting to me. Let’s put it this way; I’m glad James Mercer made this record. It is definitely a new, more polished direction for The Shins that takes their brand of taut, emotional pop and gives it an extra kick (beware those who call this “overproduced.” What it is is “fleshed out”). “Simple Song” is the obvious standout, a killer single that I will certainly be replaying late into the year. And no tracks are really bad, but not all pack the same punch as the first couple of songs or as The Shins’ early material. That said, for fans of bright, detailed, well-written alternative pop, you should check this out. As for me, I feel it’s something of a transitional record for The Shins, and I hope James Mercer is able to focus his new sense of production (which I imagine he got from the similarly minded project Broken Bells) into a truly thrilling, essential album.

7 / 10

Mike Wexler is a Brooklyn singer-songwriter who ostensibly records folk music… ostensibly. Dispossession is a uniquely pleasant, ambitious, convoluted album with a penchant for psychedelia that’s considerably welcome in an environment where many people are calling whacked-out electronic music “trippy.” Dispossession is “trippy” music dedicated as much to an old-fashioned idea of the word as it is to a forward-looking synthetic version of the word. Opener “Pariah” is a wonderful entrance into the blissed-out melodic territory that Wexler likes to traverse, with cyclical guitar figures and well-placed instrumentation. Wexler’s voice is reminiscent of similarly-minded narcotic pop troubadour Julian Lynch, but his songwriting is stronger, frequently elliptical but always assured. The album moves through genres with considerable ease but even when it verges on darker territory, Dispossession always puts its vast, deep aesthetic first, resulting in a coherent, thoroughly enjoyable take on what might be considered folk music.

7.5 / 10