They’re all the rage in Europe. Actually, in Iceland, to be more specific. Since 2006, FM Belfast, an electro-pop quartet, have become cultural icons in their native Iceland, and with the release of their debut album, How To Make Friends, their odd, playful musical creations are also beginning to attract attention worldwide.

Throughout their album, electronic blips, beeps, and buzzes mingle with pumping bass to create an infectious sound. It’s the kind of music that requires a combination of strobe lights, glow sticks, and highly-caffeinated cocktails to be properly enjoyed. So if you’re planning on throwing a rave any time in the near future — unlikely, but possible­­ — you might want to seriously consider adding a few of these tracks to your playlist.

But if that’s not exactly your scene and you’re just looking for a bit of comic relief and entertainment, this album has you covered as well. The lyrics, chanted in a monotone, heavily accented English, are supremely random and totally hilarious. There’s an entire song devoted to the commemoration of VHS tapes, one about an imaginary tropical island complete with a monkey named Pedro, and another one glorifying designated drivers. And then there’s the song “Underwear” that earned FM Belfast their nickname as the “masters of public pantlessness.”

As awesomely strange as all that may seem, the unique sound and lyrics of FM Belfast are exactly what one would expect from the group, given their past. They have managed to avoid normalcy throughout every stage of their blossoming musical career, and their fans love them for it. FM Belfast got its start as a living room experiment conducted by the group’s founding members, and the first song they ever created was intended only as a Christmas present for friends. Not impressed yet? Their first show was performed in a cave on the Faeroe Islands. Now how many groups can claim that?

But don’t be surprised. Just listen to How To Make Friends and it will all make perfect sense. By Allison Arteaga

The pop music genre brings to mind underage girls wearing provocative school uniforms, singing cookie-cutter melodies paired with an annoyingly repetitive chorus. Yet The New Pornographers diverge from that stereotype, and Together, the band’s fourth album, brings pop music back to its roots with catchy The Beatles-esque tunes. Considering the successful solo careers of core members Neko Case, Dan Bejar, and A.C. Newman, TNP fans were left wondering if the Canadian supergroup could still mesh. Together proves that, like a fine wine, The New Pornographers only get better with time.

Newman shares this opinion as he airily sings “You save the best for later” on the album’s title track. Together is a near-seamless 44-minute walk along the seashore on a sunny day, the vocal harmonies of the band’s four singers, simple guitar riffs, and assorted instrumentation propelling the album’s upbeat, mid-tempo ballads. “Together” features a fuzzed-out guitar and battle-of-the-sexes vocals that leave you feeling like you just watched the most inspiring montage since Rocky ran up the steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Bejar provides a debatably needed break from Newman’s elaborate contributions, especially on “Silver Jenny Dollar,” where he sounds like Syd Barrett back from the grave laying down a simple, wispy ditty. And Neko Case excels at what she does best: alt-country ballads. The neo-Christian “My Shepherd” sounds like something Case had sitting in the closet after recording her last solo album.

Together shows that The New Pornographers are well on their way to being one of the best pop bands of its time, but the accolade is not yet fully deserved, as their lyrics are sometimes lacking. While most of the choruses are toxically catchy and random lines show something deeper (like “It’s all we can do/In a world that’s beaten everything black and blue”), The New Pornographers need more cohesive verses. Until listeners can recite an entire song word-for-word, comparisons to The Beatles are nothing more than empty turtle shells. By Alex Lemonde-Gray

There are a number of ways to go about a life raft debate. But the question is always the same: whom are you going to take? You can make the question as detailed as you desire. In this case, the apocalypse is looming and you can only choose one all-female band to accompany you aboard your vessel, which you will use to break away and begin a new civilization. So who will it be? I’ve chosen six-piece Brooklyn-based zouk/trance outfit EFFI BRIEST. You have to take the argument seriously, examining what each member has to offer, how it will impact the potential for secondary life, and what the quality of this nation will be. These women make a hardy argument for conquering a new frontier.

EFFI BRIEST’s debut Rhizomes is a strong podium for the group’s collective intelligence. They are so well established in the organization of the nine tracks that the communication skills amongst them must be finely tweaked. A counterargument could be made that this predictable friendship would make for a boring trip and it would be better to just perish then sitting there while they text each other the entire time you’re at sea. Yet this is debunked by the undertones of anger and aggression, from the album opening title track to the closer “Shards.” New York coldness and determination are valuable in savage terrain, and the blinding pulse heard in their work is an indicator that they will have ample focus to spare.

Post arguments: EFFI BRIEST shared some album time with Peaches on a recent split release, so you know she’s going to sneak aboard in a bag or something, popping out to spook everyone by faking a seizure and then taking a few hits of Ketamine so she can just sit starboard and giggle at everyone while they paddle. It’s good to have funny friends. As a short aside from their talents, there is the obligatory question of style and beauty. Don’t worry, though: wearing vintage rec-specs and a mink fur Venetian beret with stonewashed canvas jeans from the medieval period will still leave you sitting miles away from this ensemble’s Victorian take on Mad Max gear. They would be sure to build a sweet flat out of raw materials, sew you some clothing, and build themselves a new stage set-up pronto. The only real con is whether or not EFFI BRIEST would just off you in your sleep, assuming you are male. By William Port Whales

In 2006, Nas proclaimed hip-hop was dead, and rightfully so with the saturated commercial garbage and junior-high lyricism spit out by countless fools trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents. The downward spiral continued with the Southern “crunk” sound and the eventual demise of the self-proclaimed savior of hip-hop, Kanye West, with his highly visible meltdowns and blatant rip-offs, most notably of Daft Punk. Nas had it right. Now that excess is dead, hip-hop is being resurrected with several artists taking a stab at alternative sounds. Yet only Dark Time Sunshine does it with a grimy, gloomier twist.

The conceptual and highly ambitious album Vessel from Portland duo Dark Time Sunshine teeters on the edge of classic, jazzy Gang Starr-esque hip-hop and the modern alternative and elasticized percussions of Four Tet. Yet Vessels maintains a dense, darker tone with subtle variations. And with it running over an hour long, there’s plenty of time to explore the outer reaches of their soundscapes.

Featuring the distorted dream-like beats of Zavala and the articulate rhyming of Cape Cowen (formerly Onry Ozzborn) along with several other guests, Vessel is one of the most intriguing and intelligent hip-hop albums to appear in the last decade. Dark Time Sunshine pushes the boundaries of the latest version of fringe-hop, reaching into the psychedelic, abstract sounds and beats of alternative indie music. If you like Aesop Rock, El-P, Danger Mouse, or MF Doom, Vessel will be an instant classic for you. By Pete Viele