In recent media, a lot of fame-and-fortune moguls have released insight into the struggles of making it to the big leagues. Comedian Tracy Morgan admitted he was a man of the streets who looked within himself to find the characteristics that allowed him to overcome being a bad crack dealer. Andre Agassi admitted his hatred for the game of tennis and his longtime use of meth. Explosions of anger, against all odds, deliver results — things don’t just happen, they arise from tireless struggle.

Twin brothers Jesse and Matt Kivel, Ben Usen, and David Kitz of Princeton have managed to tap around these hurdles and move into the first stage of their lives with the power of debut full-length Cocoon Of Love burning behind them. Honing their live skills during a pleasurable academic stay in London, Princeton played venues with limited setups and interspersed their musical meanderings with meticulous study. The group walked away with UK influences weighing heavily on their individual contributions to the band. And it isn’t a personal downfall for the group that they’ve lived a somewhat privileged life. It just places them in a certain category, opening for Disneyland indie-rock acts like Vampire Weekend and Ra Ra Riot, who mesh pleasant instrumentation with frivolous lyrics. But that’s OK.

I can’t continue without a personal confession: I really have no idea what sort of struggles Princeton have been through. For all I know, they gave birth to themselves, were framed for murder, or did time in a maximum-security prison. I also have to admit that I’ve listened to and exclaimed to my friends how good I think Vampire Weekend and Ra Ra Riot’s performances are about 80 times. Likewise, Cocoon Of Love is a pop-off, perfect for when you’re looking to have a silly romp with some girlfriends around a few vodka/ cosmo/ Mai Tai coma bombs. And will someone please tell me who the precious female vocalist is on Cocoon Of Love’s opening track, “Sadie & Andie”? If it’s one of the dudes in the band, I’m totally buffaloed. By Will Tunstall

Two weeks alone, a banjo, recorder, cymbals, organs, hammered dulcimer, and a pickup truck full of pain have helped the mind-pressing design of J. Tillman’s sixth album Year in the Kingdom stake its claim. I wasn’t sure until now that deep-seated hurt could be processed into a comforting portrayal, but YITK is a companion from outset to wrap-up. J. Tillman’s vocals and lyrical draft find company with early Samuel Beam (Iron and Wine) or John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats), but delineate with smooth consistency. No single song on YITK is a surprising jolt or point of boredom where one might skip forward.

Tillman seems to have discovered that his voice is his treasure. Throughout YITK, he refrains from spending his wealth in frivolous amounts, repeatedly breaking song to showcase a simple interlude of banjo or wind. Simplicity is the weapon of choice, and since 2004 it has placed J. Tillman on the demand list of many European and Western venues. His solo work, along with his membership in Pacific Northwest folk hotties Fleet Foxes, will place this artist (who’s just now ending his twenties) on a short list of exceptional individual talents of our era.

I can’t say YITK is a work all will be overcome by. It’s not the artwork of everyone’s liking. But those few who find connection with YITK and J. Tillman will feel it on first listen. It will become a record you play during very particular emotional states, mostly alone, and probably during lows. The good thing is these three requirements are available in abundance. Just go forth with caution, because it may be a major downer I have failed to recognize. By Will Tunstall

Unexpected surprises are the best kind — from the outset of Hallelujah The Hills’ second album Colonial Drones, it’s clear this underrated Boston ensemble has coalesced the finest parts of 1990s lo-fi influences like Guided With Voices with more bombastic 2000s contemporaries like Arcade Fire to deliver a twisted take on OG indie rock. Consider the telling opening trio of songs: the cello/ handclap/ guitar crunch combo “A Guide To The World’s Most Fantastic Monsters,” the violin-led Neutral Milk Hotel/ Bright Eyes mash-up “The Might Come Back Club,” and the tender alt-country plea “Put The Gurus In Charge” prove HTH can make mincemeat of genre restrictions and indie expectations.

That they operate just under the radar of eager-beaver blogophiles makes Hallelujah The Hills even more appealing in my eyes: no overblown hype, hipster latch-ons, or bullshit buzz. “Blank Passports” is straight urgent and knotty guitar rock, while “Allied Lions” features boozy horns and punk shout-outs before devolving into noisy chaos. “Oxus Pagoda” merges classical strings with tropical percussion, while “Variations On The Grand National Championships” gets blippy with computer-age keyboards. The back half of Colonial Drones drags a bit, before “You Better Hope You (Die Before Me)” whips things into shape with a majestic sing-along far more joyous than its title would indicate. And belying its six-minute runtime, “It Carries Back” is pure pop perfection, layering the right amount of eclectic instrumentation behind lead singer Ryan Walsh’s drowsy vocals. Kudos to Hallelujah The Hills for creating an album whose skewed sum is far greater than its seemingly simple parts. –NM