The latest album from Explosions in the Sky completes (to these ears) a brilliant post-rock triptych: where Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Live Forever was angry, and The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place was hopeful, All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone is triumphant. We like it. Nothing wrong with having our "really, really seriously serious" musicians remind us that intensity can be as complex and multi-faceted as we care to make it.

While we'd love to say more, we blew our word count quota on the album titles. Oops.

Fun Arriviste Fact #1843: There are more girl-with-guitar singer-songwriter acts working today than there are water molecules in the Pacific Ocean.

So maybe we wouldn't blame you for prematurely walking away from the scene. Drowning freaks us out, too. Still, you'd be missing out on some good stuff, like Quitter's Claim by Cynthia G. Mason. There's nothing revolutionary here, just ten intimate slices of finely crafted acoustic musicianship, well-suited for your more contemplative springtime evenings. (Plus, if you play it at home, you won't have those oh-god-loud coffee shop noises spoiling your mood.)

Prosser broke our hearts. Their self-titled debut is hardly bad. It's loaded with obvious talent and vision. Starts strong, too; "A Worthy Seed" is worthy mix-disc material, and "I Met a Girl" is fine stuff.

So what the hell's our problem? It's that whenever we listen to this disc, everything gets heavy. Like the whole world's turning into that summer-ending Sunday night right before third grade starts. Or--flash-forward--like the party's over, and we're going home drunk and alone. Heavy, and sad.

Plus the singer sounds like Axl Rose's kid brother. Which, well: weird.
 

Ears Like Golden Bats by My Teenage Stride is a ready-to-go indie-guitar-pop insta-party. Have your unofficial DJ play it the next time they feel like taking a forty-minute break from working the playlist.

Be warned, though: playing drinking games off this album is a way bad idea. Last time we tried doing shots every time the album got ridiculously catchy, or the rock snobs spotted an influence, or the album melted some grouchy bastard's cold heart, we wound up dead by the third song. But even that was okay, because "Terror Bends" brought us back to life.

Take three parts early-career Modest Mouse/late-career Wilco as distorted through an alternate-universe lens, add ten parts hit-or-miss but generally decent classic indie rock riffage, then garnish with a road-jam epic. Blend Sean Brooks's slightly cracked yet energetic vocals through the mix. Serve after midnight. Enjoy.