Incorporating cinematic tricks into indie pop might seem like a recipe for street-cred disaster. But for Miami, FL, trio The Postmarks, whose 2007 debut was full of shambling bossa nova and baroque pop, their second disc of originals gave them a chance to add studio sheen and film-worthy sparkle to their breezy, laid-back indie pleasantries. No doubt driven by the seductive yet innocent vocals of lead singer Tim Yehezkely (yep, Tim’s a girl), The Postmarks still find a way to wed operatic string arrangements, grandiose horns, and a detached songwriting cool — an unlikely collaboration if ever there was one.

Memoirs At The End Of The World makes its case quickly known on opener “No One Said This Would Be Easy,” all melancholy strings, crashing brass, and spy-flick mysterioso. “My Lucky Charm” owes a debt to ‘60s girl-pop, most noticeably The Ronettes hit “Be My Baby,” but things get dark and almost Portishead-like on “Thorn In Your Side,” before the electronica-driven hiccup “Don’t Know Till You Try” breaks up the interconnected atmospherics. Sitars also mix with softly strummed acoustic guitars and bleating keyboards on the breathy “All You Ever Wanted,” proving that The Postmarks refuse to exist within any specific musical orbit.

And then the cinematic nature of Memoirs At The End Of The World kicks back in: “Runaway Love” is a one-minute digression that could score any film’s pastoral dream sequence, while “For Better… Or Worse?” represents the upbeat nightclub scene with a woman on the prowl (Yehezkely even perfectly intones “catch a tiger by the tail/don’t let it get away”). Spare ‘70s disco-pop gets its due reference on “Go Jetsetter” and “A Girl From Algenib,” with gritty nightclub jazz appearing on “Theme From ‘Memoirs’” and icy synthesizer washes dotting album closer “Gone.” As The Postmarks press states, “images of French new wave films crossfade to a mournful symphony, bringing the record to a shattering close.” Who knew such a sumptuous combination could ever succeed? By Nick McGregor

South London heartthrob Jack Peñate splashed onto the musical scene in 2007 with a polished blend of Two Tone ska revival, mid-‘50s skiffle, and radio-ready indie pop, gaining fame not only for his bright and jumpy singles but also for his frenetic dancing style onstage. He also rode a wave of success for working-class British musicians (see Lily Allen and Kate Nash), but clearly that label-formulated retro persona and brash attitude could only take Peñate so far. So on sophomore album Everything Is New, the young troubadour decided to shake things up and follow a slightly different if still recognizable path.

That maturity is immediately evident on album opener “Pull My Heart Away,” which buries Peñate’s skiffle-style guitar under twinkling electro effects, turning the song into a decidedly British affair that can appeal to the nightclub denizen, emotional hermit, and music snob alike. “Be The One” continues that line of thinking, shifting from catchy U2 pop to alluring love ballad to punk-inflected banger in four short minutes. Everything Is New’s title track reflects the album’s newfound diversity, layering splendid Tropicalia over top of Peñate’s straight-ahead tenor, much as the shimmying piano number “So Near” does. And “Body Down” is a street-level mish-mash of vocal snippets, downcast riffs, and rapid-fire lyrics that mirror England’s infatuation with rock/hip-hop hybridization.

But “Tonight’s Today” is the true hit on Everything Is New, with pulsing club beats, ramshackle drumming, and hints of Afropop lending gravity to the dizzying tale of late-night partying. “Give Yourself Away” moves furthest afield from the usual Jack Peñate sound, as raucous percussion and uptempo bass blasts offer enticement to dancefloor booty-shakers. And don’t forget “Let’s All Die,” an unexpectedly joyous number full of marching band horns and hummed gospel backing vocals. If you discounted Jack Peñate back in ‘07 as I did for his seemingly shallow skills, the moody, celebratory, and deep Everything Is New might make you rethink that opinion. –NM

Entering the mainstream world with props from Sonic Youth founder Thurston Moore should, hypothetically, equal instant stardom. But for The Entrance Band, even the highest praise from Moore (“The most alluring and, yes, entrancing vibe I’ve yet to experience in this new age”) can’t hide the constant comparisons to Entrance, The Entrance Band’s earliest incarnation with frontman Guy Blakeslee getting all the credit. Bassist Paz Lenchantin and drummer Derek James helped with Entrance’s 2006 album Prayer Of Death before officially joining full-time, but where Prayer Of Death received heaps of praise for its doom-oriented folk-blues approach, The Entrance Band glosses over some of those grittier, more authentic moments.

Opener “Lookout!” crackles with intensity, but repetitive lyrics and overblown noodling by Blakeslee sap some of the song’s power. “M.L.K.” has a lovingly dilapidated instrumental feel, but the elementary memorial to one of our nation’s greatest heroes doesn’t resonate as it should (“’cause I want to hear freedom ring/I sing about Martin Luther King”). After that, The Entrance Band stumbles further, with uninspired alt-rock (“Still Be There”), Black Sabbath impersonations (“Sing For The One”), and stilted falsetto moments (“You’re So Fine”) eating up valuable running time. And “Grim Reaper Blues (Pt. 2)” offers the most ammunition to The Entrance Band critics, taking an early Blakeslee favorite and turning it into a Jimi Hendrix rip-off — yes, smears of blistering axework do energize the track, but for nearly seven minutes? It’s a problem repeated often on The Entrance Band — four of the album’s ten tracks clock in above the six-minute mark. That may work for Sonic Youth, but it’s not the smartest decision for a fresh band. You know what though? If Prayer Of Death wowed, and The Entrance Band dismayed, the next The Entrance Band record might just be a classic. –NM