Many of us share an infatuation with the move away from expensive production — that slated-in-stone, strenuously engineered sound. The infatuation also defines the term that very often accompanies those of us who jump to describe lo-fi, under-, or self-engineered albums as epic or grand. It has also defined, for the other side, the attitude of being superior for not partaking in any of the trends found on today’s college charts, those trends such as relentlessly cute but creepily androgynous vocals or the enslavement of every piece of sound-making shit a performer can get their hands on during garbage day. That term would be something along the lines of “badass” or “complete asshole,” depending on your point of view.

But the fact is, nobody wants to hear a terrible album, no one wants to go see a band fail live, and no one really has the exact same taste in music when they are alone in their car. It also means that we’re all snowflakes. The aversion of circumstantial failure that listeners hate has come to define decades of amazing punk groups willing to perform at any shithole or dirty house, and do it well with certain risk involved. It has also come to define a select few of other genres willing to do the same. A small shitty show can make or break a group and their spirit.

Reminiscence and progression is what makes Fire Works and the rest of The Sainte Catherines’ discography a definitive move for punk. Their press will tell you about the risk involved in recording this album alone in a chalet without the chimney smoke sound guys charging $120 an hour to tweak knobs. They will also tell you that the three lead guitarists are a major recipe for album death or eternal success. They are right. The point is that I find a glorious nature in the way this band makes decisions. To carry a major weight of responsibility in the punk community and still take risks under the nose of its critics is cool. And The Saint Catherines’ music is even better for it. By Will Tunstall

In the current musical landscape of indie rock, The Hours is unique. However, the band’s name is not unique and their sound is not particularly innovative. But The Hours stand out, because they are a true-blood, tea-sipping, fish-and-chip-eating English band. Made up of the duo of Antony Glenn and Martin Slattery, who write true English rock built around unadulterated piano-driven melodies, simple beats, and unmistakably British vocals, a solid group of musicians round out the band. It’s Not How You Start, It’s How You Finish is the band’s first full-length U.S. release. The collection of 14 songs spans the band’s last five years, giving American listeners a summary course on The Hours rather than an album packed full of fresh material.

Album opener “Ali In The Jungle” is the band’s best-known hit. The song was featured in the EA Sports FIFA 2008 video game, droning over digital soccer fields across the globe. The song is also the soundtrack to the Nike television advertisement “Human Chain,” which premiered during the 2010 Winter Olympics. The song shows what English rock can sound like when perfectly executed. A hollow, steady drumbeat keeps time, leaving Slattery to bang out simple, clean melodies on the piano while an electric guitar matches with its own repetitive, clean riffs. The lyrics detail heroic feats, showing an English knowledge of history stereotypically superior to us damn colonials. “Everybody gets knocked down/ How quick are you gonna get up/ Just how are you gonna get up/ Like Ali in the jungle/ Like Nelson in jail/ Like Simpson on the mountain/ With odds like that they were bound to fail,” Glenn sings with his unstrained, limited pipes.

“Big Black Hole” is another highlight track on It’s Not How You Start, It’s How You Finish. Please don’t mistake the song’s title with Muse’s “Supermassive Black Hole.” “Big Black Hole” is just as its name implies: less grandiose, intense, exciting, and impressive. The song touches on the happier songs of English New Wave bands of the 1980s and early 1990s like The Cure and The Smiths. Glenn’s vocals rival Morrissey’s in terms of tone and range, but lack the hairy-chested grit ever-present in that iconic Briton’s croon. The drum beat on “Big Black Hole” is faster than that of “Ali,” and the piano is once again simplistic, but here Glenn pens a catchy chorus: “Gonna tell you something you might not want to know/ Show you somewhere you should go/ Before you end up in a big black hole.” The Hours initially seem like a breath of fresh air, but you’ll quickly catch on that the band’s just playing with the past. Nonetheless, the world in 2010 could use a new English rock band… right? By Alex Lemonde-Gray

Jacksonville, FL, musician Owen Holmes has got a story that should inspire any one dreaming of indie-rock stardom. Formerly a reporter for North Florida’s Folio Weekly, Holmes is also the bass player for guitar-pop band Black Kids, who went from slogging it out on the regional circuit to instant buzz-band success after a much blogged-about performance at 2007’s PopFest in Athens, GA. That led Black Kids to self-release a critically acclaimed EP, and then sign a deal with major-label Columbia Records. After that, Holmes’ daily routine went from chasing leads and conducting interviews to touring the U.S. and UK in fancy motor coaches and performing in front of tens of thousands of swooning fans.

But while Black Kids work on their second full-length album, Holmes’ Gospel Music solo project has downshifted from his main band’s angular dance rock to breezy folk-rock ditties. And his efforts on the five-song Duettes EP must be commended — not only did Holmes convince uber-hip singers like Tracyanne Campbell of Camera Obscura, Cassie Ramone of Vivian Girls, Shirley Simms of Magnetic Fields, Darren Hayman of Hefner, and French chanteuse SoKo to lend their pipes to his debut album — but he also got himself signed to indie powerhouse label Kill Rock Stars. But don’t let those impressive accolades take away from the strength of Gospel Music’s beautiful little tunes. Holmes’ songwriting is spot-on, introspective, and rich with detail about everything from boiled peanuts to hips kept in escrow to his vegetarian diet. On “I Miss The Shit Out Of You,” Holmes’ female protagonist won’t “move back to Florida” because she doesn’t love him as much as her skyline; “Automobile” finds Holmes and Campbell trading a cheery, almost childlike back-and-forth about his four-door Honda; and on “Reinheitsgebot,” Hayman and Holmes mourn the loss of a lover over ruminations on running marathons, cooking gumbo, and brewing beer at home.

But the clear standout on Duettes is the shambling, minor-key “Gamophobia,” on which Holmes adds sadly plucked banjos to his acoustic guitar repertoire. And lines like “If you want to set foot on the moon/ I’ll be your Jack Kennedy/ And if you want to drink yourself to death/ Baby, I’ll build you a brewery”? Well, that’s just Holmes’ superb way with words finally getting comfortable with his deep croak of a singing voice. Who knows whether Gospel Music will stick to the duet format for its upcoming full-length — but whatever Holmes does, fans of his revealing, intimate new project will surely keep listening with baited breath. By Nick McGregor

Bag Of Toys is unapologetically commercial, and it’s a better band because of it. Originally from San Francisco, Bag Of Toys is a four-man acoustic surf rock outfit now based out of Wilmington, NC. The band’s fun-loving, easygoing music has been featured in a national Microsoft commercial, the TV show “Bones,” and in two Universal Pictures movies. Armed with pre-Sleep Through The Static Jack Johnson riffs, snappy beats, and speedy, mindless lyrics, Bag Of Toys is built for entertainment. More specifically, Bag Of Toys was built in 2004 when lead vocalist Robert Tait and lead guitarist Steve Cowgill found each other on Craigslist.com. How 21st century of them. Tait and Cowgill rounded out the band with a bass player and a drummer, but had to replace their rhythm section upon moving East.

Afternooner, Bag Of Toys’ third album, sees the band sticking with happy acoustic rock while also mixing in hints of reggae, Latin, and country. “Burn It Down” is one of the most interesting songs on Afternooner. This slo-mo reggae track opens with a classic one-two snare hit before cruising with a mellow, white-boy rhythm much like Slightly Stoopid. Tait’s lyrics are about as scandalous as they get on “Burn It Down”: “What makes you a better person/ Than that same man thirty years ago/ He’s got a perfect life and a perfect home/ Looking back you see but don’t believe me/ Now all the same as anyone can see.” But “Burn It Down” really gets kicking during the country-influenced chorus, during which Tait’s vocal melodies are too much to resist, leaving the listener singing along whether you want to or not.  Despite “Burn It Down’s” appeal, album opener “Ooh La La” demonstrates how catchy Bag Of Toys can be (think “Rodeo Clowns” by Jack Johnson, minus some of the originality, and you’ve got it). One thing Bag Of Toys do to differentiate from Johnson is indulge in tastefully executed acoustic guitar solos, as Cowgill’s playing is snap-worthy but not overdone.

Bag Of Toys excel at what they do. The only question is whether the move to our cliff-less shores was the right choice for these unabashedly commercial beach rockers. But if you consider the number of WB sitcoms that come out of the Wilmington, you’ll find the answer is yes. By Alex Lemonde-Gray