Providence, R.I.'s Arab on Radar were one of those bands people loved to hate. Everything about them – their urine and masturbation-obsessed lyrics, their arrogant interviews, their very band name – seemed calculated to confuse and irritate as many people as possible. Live, vocalist, Mr. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder came off like a sexually confused bed wetter, while drummer Mr. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder looked like a Blues Brothers reject with shades and slicked-back hair. Both of them spoke or sang in a high-pitched yelp that made them sound like eunuchs: anything to make people uncomfortable. At their August 2001 show at Bottom of the Hill, I blurted out, "You guys are the most annoying band on the planet." Mr. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder responded, "Thanks, we try."

The Stolen Singles serves as the obligatory singles-and-compilation-tracks retrospective, collecting everything important they did that's not on one of their four studio albums. As Stolen Singles shows, AOR were not always the unique force heard on the later albums. The first several tracks fall into a dissonant but danceable no wave-disco vein that's not too far off from present-day Bay Area bands like Erase Errata and Numbers. My word-on-the-street source says their shows were more fun back in those days, but because I only jumped on board with their third album, 2000's awesomely obnoxious Soak the Saddle, these songs feel conservative, like baby steps on the way to them achieving their own sound.

Starting with 1998's "Samurai Fight Song," though, things pick up. While AOR's foes have tried to dismiss them as mere no wave retreads or the retarded offspring of Captain Beefheart and U.S. Maple (which they could be if that weren't chronologically impossible), the sheer rock 'n' roll power of songs like "Piggin' in the Pumpkin Patch" and "Miss American Hair Pie" argues that they were more than that. They were like a panic attack set to music. (Will York)

Spacek
Vintage Hi-Tech (!K7)

Digging through my crate of clichés, I think of the perfect one for Spacek's sophomore album, Vintage Hi-Tech: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Not that it's been very long since their debut, Curvatia (Island Blue), came out just two years ago. Instead what makes Spacek's latest so sublime is what isn't there.

With calculated use of empty space, the trio of Steve Spacek, Morgan Zarate, and DJ Jay Scarlett have managed to etch a moment of R&B that is both utterly modern and completely devoid of trend. While more beat focused than their earlier efforts, Vintage Hi-Tech retains the trademark soft, floaty vocals front and center. Around them Spacek weave a gossamer web of careful clicks, ghostly guitar loops, and points of bass that pick out a sleek skeleton of soul. From the swinging hip-hop of the aptly named "Motion Control" to the delicate, glitch groove of "Starz," the album is a study of minimalist restraint.

There are, however, moments when less is simply less, most tied to the occasionally flat vocals. With facile lyrics and a delivery that derives its only affect from production, "Amazing" is only remarkable in its annoying repetition. Steve Spacek's careful phrasing occasionally omits all emotion, but more often his sparse and selective emphasis underlines his considerable talent. Strong on subtlety, Vintage Hi-Tech is a whisper that turns out to be more stunning than a scream. Spacek perform Sat/31, 111 Minna, S.F. (415) 974-1719. (Peter Nicholson)

Good Charlotte
The Young and the Hopeless (Epic/Daylight)

For a bunch of dudes who were still rocking the Huggies when Ronald Reagan was in office, the snot-nosed kids of Good Charlotte do a great job of replicating the snot-nosed, er, men of the early '80s, namely VJs Mark Goodman and Alan Hunter. After the success of their riff-happy punk pop single "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous," someone at MTV anointed these SoCal kids the princes of punk. Now as the frequent hosts of All Things Rock, the spiky-haired band get to offer up snarky comments alongside videos by Kelly Osbourne and Godsmack. Too bad they don't get a chance to drop some choice words after their own video clips from their latest album, The Young and the Hopeless. Now that would be fun.

I'm not saying Good Charlotte are complete frauds, but they certainly play them on TV. The problem with the band is that for all their punk veneer – the dangerous-looking hair, blatant overuse and abuse of olde English lettering, and spiderweb tattoos – they are about as subversive as Kelly Clarkson. In the eyes of record execs, the band have a couple of strong points: power pop hooks and a malleable image. But even Goodman and Hunter would be able to see the difference between punk pop forebears like the Ramones and Good Charlotte. For the latter, punk is merely a genre in which to prop up their brand of pop. Face it, Good Charlotte make punk rock best suited for the fake world of the WB – you can easily imagine the outcast kids of Smallville bopping along to "The Anthem." That scenario fits right in with the title of The Young and the Hopeless – it's prefab, it's cynical, and it works on the level of soap opera. Good Charlotte play Sat/31, Event Center at San Jose State University, San Jose. (415) 421-TIXS. (Tony Hayes)

New Pornographers
Electric Version (Matador)

"All hail what will be revealed today," Neko Case sings triumphantly on the New Pornographers' Electric Version. It's a fitting declaration for an album chock full of rock and power pop revelations: As the follow-up to 2000's Mass Romantic, the Vancouver collective's second album finds them returning with the summer's giddiest, most glorious 45 minutes of rock revelry. Fans fearing the New Porns couldn't repeat their debut's success can rest assured the formula remains the same. With even more skyscraper-size hooks, multipart harmonies, and Cars-cribbed synths, the album is a more confident, cohesive improvement of everything that made Mass Romantic so intoxicating.