Five For Fighting's main man, John Ondrasik, makes music like he's trying hard to earn a spot on a Dawson's Creek soundtrack. On Five for Fighting's third album, Ondrasik's self-pitying ballads overflow with dewy-eyed dreaminess, as his vocals swoon and swoop -- think of a more annoying Chris Martin. Piano-based numbers such as "Disneyland" sport strong melodies, but their mush-headed philosophizing ("It's a nice day when you wake up in Disneyland") push the limits of poetic indulgence. The closest Ondrasik comes to rocking is on "Angels and Girlfriends," where he spits a series of sarcastic spoken-word verses about a lost love; its flip side is "One More for Love," a power ballad that reaches Air Supply levels of cheesiness. Here's hoping she takes him back, and quick. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)

Lostprophets Start Something (Sony)

Faith No More are the greatest band ever. At least that's what you'd think listening to the six-piece Welsh group Lostprophets. Luckily, they're imitating one of the most innovative metal acts of all time. Lostprophets' "Last Train Home" is one of the catchiest hard-rock songs to hit the radio in the past three years. Singer Ian Watkins has Mike Patton's croon/scream down cold, and his group deftly applies FNM's anything-goes approach: equal parts thrash riffs, symphonic keyboards and moody jazz intervals. Standouts such as "Last Train Home" and "Burn Burn" hint at something awesome. In the meantime, it's a kick-ass tribute. (KIRK MILLER)

The Walkmen Bows and Arrows (Record Collection)

The New York rock revival is running its course, which leaves the tepid Walkmen in a tough spot. Their 2002 debut marked them as the most scattered band of their garage-rock class, and Bows and Arrows does precious little to change that perception. With his gasping vocals serving up warmed-over pleas, Hamilton Leithauser aches but never sounds like he's really hurting; even "Hang On Siobhan," which starts languorous and pretty, never takes firm root. "The Rat" and "Thinking of a Dream I Had" both open with muscular guitar work -- the former redolent of the Cure, the latter dipping into garage -- but peter out by the time Leithauser manages to work up a full head of indignation. Most retro bands don't improve upon their forebears, but they're not all this lethargic, either. (JON CARAMANICA)

The Elected Me First (Sub Pop)

Me First is what happens to L.A. kids who grow up listening to Joy Division and the Beach Boys while staring at the Pacific moon. The debut from the West Coast four-piece is drenched in the laid-back, pedal steel vibe of original stardust cowboy Gram Parsons ("Waves"), even as cosmic ballads like "The Miles Til Home" bleed from lap steel into drum machine beats and back again. Lead singer and songwriter Blake Sennett (Rilo Kiley) finds a balance between the formalism of fellow Sub Pop Parson acolytes Beachwood Sparks and wistful synthesizer popsters the Postal Service (whose Jimmy Tamborello helped record the album) on the robotic love song "Mon Mom." Sennett's whispered vocals sound like a computer simulated Brian Wilson laid over emo-friendly lyrics about regret and soul weariness ("I'm too young to feel this tired"). Parsons never sang about girls who cut their arms ("A Response to Greed"), or pill-popping moms ("Go On"), but this album, dedicated to Elliott Smith, taps both artists' rare breed of exquisite sadness. (GIL KAUFMAN)

The Mountain Goats We Shall All Be Healed (4 AD)

Bob Dylan proved that vitriol and acoustic guitars could go together, but the Mountain Goats' John Darnielle has taken confessional folk music to angry new depths. "I hope you die/I hope we both die," Darnielle told a fictional lover on 2002's Tallahassee; on We Shall All Be Healed, his gift for pissed-off poetry and left-field details remains intact. Darnielle gets all he can out of his speed-addled strumming and shrill voice as he complains of busted love and dredges up oddball fragments from his past. On the delicate reverie "Against Pollution," Darnielle ponders toxic soil, dysfunctional families and objects he left in a desk drawer, dedicating the song to rats who hurled themselves into the ocean. It's one thing to identify with lowlifes, but it takes real talent to make pretty folk out of rodents. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)

Califone Heron King Blues (Thrill Jockey)

Based on frontman Tim Rutili's recurring dream of a giant half-man, half-bird character, Heron King Blues is yet another exploratory turn for Chicago's Califone. Reflecting the murky haziness of the dreams that inspired them, the song structures often dissolve into freeform collages enhanced by barely audible, non-sequitur lyrics. On "Trick Bird," stream-of-consciousness lyrics like "my enemy my screamers luck old faced baby our cocaine years bird trick," gibberish in another context, become an integral dimension of the layered soundscape. A halting, aggressive guitar riff stretches into fourteen minutes of crafted mayhem on the title track, while the tinny percussion and jangling guitar of the excellent "2 Sisters Drunk on Each Other" is subdued Remain In Light-era Talking Heads. Less melodic and accessible than last year's Quicksand/Cradlesnakes, the adventurous songs on Heron are bound to their dreamy conception between clarity and chaos. (TYSON SCHUETZE)

Centro-Matic Flashes and Cables (Misra)

Centro-Matic ringleader/songwriter Will Johnson is so prolific he must make music for breakfast. Even more astonishing is the consistency of his songwriting, no different on this EP. The tracks here are outtakes from the group's recently released full-length album, Love You Just the Same. The six songs listed are actually five -- the opener "Flashes and Cables" is repeated halfway through with added dissonance and strings, neither of which mask the song's catchy splendor. Like he does on most of Centro-Matic's releases, Johnson connects oblique lyrics with urgency in a voice as flawed as mottled wood over dirge-y symphonies of sound. Guitars growl around his pop melodies on "Guillotines Hung Together" drums, the piano plods thoughtfully on the much quieter "Why Are They Playing So Loudly" and the gnarled "Love You Just the Same" is distilled into straining harmonies. The fact that "Love You" is the missing title track from their most recent album makes this EP a companion piece, and the bonus video footage makes it worth the price of admission. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Electrelane The Power Out (Too Pure/Beggars Group)

After five years of obscurity, the members of Brighton, England's Electrelane have aligned with producer Steve Albini for their impressive and bravely expressive second album The Power Out. Whether they're creating a haunting Feelies-like feel for "Gone Under Sea" or a minimalist stomp for the caterwauling "On Parade," this all-female quartet is well beyond art school with these eleven entries. The New Wave stripes of the instrumental "Love Builds Up" are worn proudly, and these gals even bump up the soulful organ grooves of "The Valleys" by bringing a twelve-person choir on board. While their instincts are largely right on, the modern blues noodle of "Birds," is, um, for the birds. Despite that stumble, the quirky pulse of "Only One Thing Is Needed" and "This Deed" -- with it's soothing, vocal layers and thoughtful bass plucking -- affirm that Electrelane are an adventurous outfit hitting their prime. (JOHN D. LUERSSEN)

(February 2, 2004)