Until about two weeks ago, the hype surrounding London's M.I.A. (a.k.a. Maya Arulpragasam) was enough to cause even the most seasoned showbiz type to crack. The buzz for her full-length debut, Arular, was fierce and spreading; her mix tape with boyfriend and producer Diplo, Piracy Funds Terrorism Vol. 1, threatened to be the first Village Voice Pazz and Jop top-10 record without a label; and hardly anyone had seen her perform live. She's successfully held it all together, though. And after delivering a couple of steamy, sold-out affairs in New York City and Los Angeles last week, as well as Arular, one of the year's first great albums, Arulpragasam has proved to be wholly deserving of all the praise.

Piracy was an incredibly fun experiment in test-driving an unreleased studio record through the pothole-ridden streets of the underground. What Arular reveals are the finely tuned nuances of M.I.A.'s songwriting and performance prowess that got a bit smothered under Diplo's far-reaching hands. In many Piracy downloaders' minds, "Bingo" is forever married to Jay-Z's "Big Pimpin' "; here its lightly tinkled steel drums and strangled Casiotone keys come through with a new, pronounced clarity, as does the bravado in M.I.A.'s sexily barked, London-brogue delivery.

Still, it's her cosmopolitan hybrid of styles, both musical and nonmusical, that make the largest splash: B-boy tracksuits and militaristic Tamil Tiger imagery play as large a role in M.I.A.'s world as dancehall riddims, Bollywood soundtracks, and subsets of computer music. Where Arulpragasam's first single, "Galang," is propelled by a chugging, rastafied beat and offers nods to grime and bhangra, others, like the fiery "Bucky Done Gone" and "10 Dollar," resemble baile funk joints churned out of Brazilian ghettos. Sure, someone's bound to bring the bored masses back around to dance and hip-hop, and it might as well be M.I.A., but more accurately she's in a category all her own. M.I.A. performs March 16, Independent, S.F. (415) 771-1421. (Ken Taylor)

Upsilon Acrux
Volucris Avis Dire-Arum (Planaria)
Yowie
Cryptooology (Skin Graft)

The dubiously nicknamed "brutal prog" subgenre written about in these pages nearly three years ago hasn't exactly taken the world by storm, but then again, no one expected it to. It has continued to produce plenty of interesting music, with newer bands such as Inshi and Yowie popping up to give established acts like Orthrelm and San Diego's Upsilon Acrux some competition.

The recently released Volucris Avis Dire-Arum, Upsilon Acrux's fourth album of challenging futuro-prog, was actually recorded in April 2002. The delay was unlikely to make it sound dated, though, given the combination of '70s prog reverence (there's even a Goblin cover), futuristic, Devo-ish synths, and herky-jerky, post-math rock dissonance. This music feels like it's coming out of several different decades at once – a couple of which we haven't lived through yet – as well as two different bands, a result of the death-defying stereo separation: bass guitar and drummer number one on the left; Moog, guitar, and drummer number two on the right. While Upsilon steer clear of the potential traffic jam that could have caused, the music is still intense, dense, and meticulously orchestrated. Listening to it isn't always fun, per se, but like watching a documentary, eating raw vegetables, or reading a physics textbook, it feels good for you. It's edifying.

The debut album from St. Louis quartet Yowie, Cryptooology, is more playful but no less challenging. None of the seven instrumentals feature any kind of easily identifiable hook or refrain; the song structures are completely nonrepeating; and the dueling guitar parts are not only atonal but also microtonal. Yet while some may find this sort of frantic, manic noise rock dissonance torturous, I can't help marveling at how enjoyable this stuff is in a gut-level, rock 'n' roll sort of way. In contrast to Upsilon's more studied approach, Yowie's music comes across as loose and spontaneous – no small feat, given that they must have practiced these songs a thousand times. As cheap comparisons go, if Upsilon Acrux are Devo covering Red-era King Crimson, then Yowie are Arab on Radar covering serial music composer Pierre Boulez. Both bands are helping raise the bar in a quality-challenged rock underground that really needs it. Upsilon Acrux play with the Locust, Ex-Models, and Plot to Blow up the Eiffel Tower Fri/18, Slim's, S.F. (415) 255-0333. (Will York)

Chateau Flight
The Meal (Versatile)

The heads of Parisian label Versatile are true to the name of that joint venture. On their second artist album together as Chateau Flight, I:Cube and Gilb'r effortlessly run through a range of electronic styles, from hard-edged, synth-driven electro sure to get the most jaded floor jumping, to easily meandering grooves with steel guitar, perfect for a sidewalk café. Best of all, this eclectic display of adaptability never seems forced, progressing instead with an inevitable logic.

I'll confess to favoring the faster songs: "Ongaku" perfectly unites prancing keyboards and sinuous synths with the clipped vocals of the Paris Japanese Choir, while "Cosmic Race" is an awe-inspiring techno journey from Detroit into deep space, hissing snares riding high over sub-bass pulses as liquid keyboard lines are bent and twisted into spun gold. (It's hard not to wax rhapsodic about such starkly beautiful, urgently moving music.) But though the more club-friendly tracks may earn "repeat" on my iPod more frequently, slower songs give the pair a chance to really parade their skills. Even on a relatively straightforward cut like "Connected," Chateau Flight manage to marry the pop perfection of a plucky bass synth and Nicola Kramer's breathy soul singing with dissonant, diving flourishes that make me scramble for the sampler.

The Meal 's true stunner, though, comes on "Superflight," featuring Zap Mama's Marie Daulne. Leaving behind any dance music framework, I:Cube and Gilb'r build a shimmering ziggurat of vibes, woody acoustic bass, and keys. From its top they fly a snapping banner of Daulne's breathy yelps, digitally melded with flute notes. The line between silicon and soul disappears, and we're left with a thing of true beauty. (Peter Nicholson)