Various artists
Molam: Thai Country Groove from Isan (Sublime Frequencies)

Various artists
Radio Phnom Penh (Sublime Frequencies)

Guerrilla ethnomusicology label Sublime Frequencies has steadily been cranking out the goods since its inception less than two years ago. With its most recent batch – which includes dispatches from Indonesia, Nepal, Tibet, Cambodia, and Thailand – it's already up to number 21 in the catalog. These discs are all over the place, ranging from field recordings to radio collages to possibly copyright-infringing compilations culled from official vinyl and cassette releases that we'll hope no one gets too upset about.

Among the highlights is Molam: Thai Country Groove from Isan, which was compiled by Mono Pause and Neung Phak bassist Mark Gergis. Molam certainly doesn't sound like what we know as country, but the roughly translated song titles – "Husband Drunk, Wife Drunk," "Cry into the Pillow" – hint that some of the basic subject matter is similar. Musically, this CD resembles last year's Cambodian Cassette Archive (also compiled by Gergis), as well as Buda Musique's Ethiopiques compilations, in terms of its inspired blend of modern and traditional sounds. Farfisa organ, electric bass and guitar, and the occasional rock drum kit mix together with rhythmic, rapid-fire vocals and traditional instruments such as the khaen (a bamboo mouth organ that sounds like a cross between an accordion and a harmonica), and while this description might sound clinical, the music is anything but. The "groove" part of the title refers to the repetitive, hypnotic bass lines that anchor most of the songs – although there are detours into other styles and sounds, including a few bizarre skits and a fantastic electric guitar instrumental.

The other standout from the recent batch, Radio Phnom Penh, was recorded last fall by label head Alan Bishop during a trip to Cambodia. As he explains in the liner notes, "This is Re-Mix Radio, much of it re-mixed music, created by a re-mixed culture." This disc is less manic than the other radio collages Bishop has compiled: Here, he does a little less slicing and dicing and even lets some songs play all the way through, which is nice. It's still fast-paced and relentless, veering from reverb-drenched reggae pop to mutant surf rock to crazed techno, with radio announcers interjecting at various points in at least three different languages. The surprise cover of "A Hard Day's Night" that pops up midway through the album stands out as a brief moment of familiarity, but even that song is radically reworked and a little disorienting. Radio Phnom Penh is the most entertaining and accessible of the several Radio titles on Sublime Frequency so far, and it's a good introduction to the label's nonacademic, seat-of-the-pants approach to so-called world music. (Will York)

Headphones
Headphones (Suicide Squeeze)

Why must some indie rockers, like the Postal Service and now Headphones, slice away the traditional accoutrements – guitars, bass, fuzz boxes – to get at some truth? Pedro the Lion's David Bazan hasn't sounded as good in years, live and on this self-titled debut with his new project, Headphones. Pounding a synth alongside Pedro bandmate Tim Walsh and drummer Frank Lenz, he mainlines a particularly sober strain of bitterness, plainly taking everyone to task.

Targets include industry users ("Here I thought the drinks were free / But all the time they were grooming me / To be the egg that laid the golden goose," on "Natural Disaster"), social climbers ("I called to beg you not to write that stupid song / But as it happens now it's burning up the charts / And breaking hot girls' hearts as it masquerades as art," on "Hot Girls"), and free-floating terror ("All empires eventually expire, and when they finally do it's never pretty. So just sit back and wait for the attacks, especially in the major cities," on "Major Cities").

Reared on a childhood diet of Human League and latchkey kid emotional disassociation – and now sustained by Neptunes-style beats – we've come to read this type of pop minimalism as a form of honesty. Few, though, match Headphones' piercing melodies, which are as virally contagious and bittersweet as Quasi's (see Headphones' "Shit Talker"), and rarely do they reach the scary apotheosis of emotional nakedness that Bazan finds in the process of paring the songs down to the bone and laying out the kind of intimate violence that some can only inflict on those they truly love – and hate. "Hello operator I would like to place a call / To the pale grey telephone that is hanging on her wall," Bazan starts off "Hello Operator," dialing up all our lovelorn teen pop associations as an alarmed synth blurts in the background, just before he unspools the real story. "I will be resting on the earlobe that I used to hunt and peck / I will slowly wrap myself around her pretty little neck." Just as he calmly closes the lid of Headphones with a lovers' car crash, Bazan reaches in through the fiber-optic lines and the distances that separate us, and imperturbably pulls out the listener's heart. Headphones play Mon/30, Cafe du Nord, S.F. (415) 861-5016. (Kimberly Chun)

Mint Condition
Livin' the Luxury Brown (Cagedbird)

Minneapolis's Mint Condition are a rock band masquerading as an R&B vocal group and funk combo – not unlike Sly and the Family Stone, only a generation removed. In club performances, M.C. have been known to crank the decibels to sometimes punishing arena-rock levels. Livin' the Luxury Brown, their first recording in six years, more closely captures the raw sonic scope of M.C.'s live shows than did such smoother songs as "Breakin' My Heart (Pretty Brown Eyes)" and "U Send Me Swingin'," crossover hits cut during the band's association with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis's Perspective label in the 1990s. The self-produced comeback disc gives freer reign to the feedback-fueled guitar of Homer O'Dell and the serpentine synthesizer lines supplied by Lawrence El and Jeffrey Allen, who double on piano and tenor saxophone respectively. And the bottoms, anchored by bassist Rickey Kinchen and drummer Chris Dave, punch harder than ever.

For all the instrumental blare, the high, pleading lead tenor vocals of Stokley Williams and the Take 6-inspired background harmonies of his bandmates remain M.C.'s focus. They're lovers at heart, balladeers whose every turn of sweet-soul phrase oozes romance. Williams's tone is not unlike that of former Tony! Toni! Tone! frontperson Raphael Saadiq, only stronger. Some tunes, especially the Williams-penned ballad "Lookwhachudone2me," have a pronounced Saadiq vibe in their subtle rhythmic push and shove. This could be due to the involvement of onetime A Tribe Called Quest turntablist Ali Shaheed Muhammad, or perhaps it's just another manifestation of an ongoing Minneapolis-Oakland synergy that was sparked in the mid-'80s, when Prince began raiding East Bay clubs for musicians. Mint Condition play June 3-5, Kimball's East, Emeryville. (510) 658-3964. (Lee Hildebrand)

Mogwai
Government Commissions: BBC Sessions 1996-2003 (Matador)

Mogwai shows are the stuff of legend: deafeningly loud affairs that rank up there with the likes of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless-era eardrum assaults. My first experience with the Glasgow quintet, at Toronto's Horseshoe Tavern circa 1999, was par for the course. Halfway through the set, nearly every attendee – Sloan guitarist Jay Ferguson included – was cupping his or her ears or shoving some type of sound-absorbing wad into them. My clothes were literally shaking on my body when some joker yelled out, "Stuart, use the distortion pedal!" as if the group's leader, Stuart Braithwaite, hadn't already put it to use.

Mogwai were never meant to be heard as much as they were to be felt. On listening to this collection of their live recordings for the BBC, though, one begins to do both. The unassuming, cordial voice of late Brit radio legend John Peel starts off Government Commissions, and there's something eerily comforting about his introduction, as if he were saying, "It's OK, everyone. This won't hurt. Trust me." For once, Mogwai's live performance is incredibly soothing.

"Hunted by a Freak," the first of the eight tracks recorded at Peel's Maida Vale studio (two others were made at Hippodrome in London), employs an airy guitar and an almost Air-like vocoder effect that garbles and smears Braithwaite's vocals into amorphous threads of sound. When it seems the band should naturally climb to a song's peak and blast their way down the other side, they remain surprisingly restrained throughout, so that you sense their collective tension as they hold it all in. Only in a couple of instances, like the 18-minute up-and-downer "Like Herod" and "Superheroes of BMX," do they let fly, cranking the distortion and melting overblown scraping textures onto drifting guitar and Farfisa riffs. It's a creeping reminder that at any time, you're just moments away from jamming your fingers into your ears and not being sure you'll make it out unscathed. (Ken Taylor)