SuperVolcano is a prog-metal band, and though it would be unfair to label them “technical” in nature, it is each musician’s prowess on his instrument that immediately jumps out through the speakers. Drawing on the cerebral moods of modern-day progressive acts like Dream Theater and Porcupine Tree, SuperVolcano’s songs are in fact highly complex, but they are also grounded in a driving rhythmic sensibility that keeps them from straying too far into the excesses of the genre. These stabilizing rhythms come largely from drummer Jesse Weiss, with guitarist Michael John Thomas III and six-string bassist Matt Powell dancing over the top with intervallic gymnastics and a distorted crunch. Singer/madman David A.K. is a versatile vocalist, able to transition between metal shrieks and his more restrained, yet equally forceful, singing voice.

It’s a delicate balance between the four musicians, probably best realized in the decidedly un-jazzy tune “Jazz,” which takes off smoothly from ethereal menace into a stunted funk vibe. Less successful is “Wine/Aft. Error,” which suffers from a series of “complexity for its own sake” moments, in which structure is abandoned for acrobatics that don’t really pay off. But, when they hold their course (especially in a live format), SuperVolcano can blow its top with the best of them and are certainly worth a listen.

“After Jason's horrific but liberating death,” reads the band biography, “the Argonauts spent years in search of a vocalist.” So began the musical trials and tribulations of Jesus and the Argonauts, an alt-country act whose religious/mythological obsession ends with its name, and perhaps some of its fliers.

What remains is the music itself: smooth folk-pop with the barest hint of Nashville twang. Attendant are the many woodsy voices we’ve come to enjoy from the forest glen: acoustic thumps; airy vocal harmonies; and a minimalist approach to percussion. When it works, as it does in the case of “You’re the Man Who Broke My Heart,” a hooky duet that could have come straight from the Bonnie Raitt catalogue, it’s marvelous. When it doesn’t, it feels forced, as if the band isn’t quite sure how to present itself. Take “All the Switches,” for example, a dirge-like slow rocker that simply comes off as confusing when compared to the delicate mandolin-plucked landscape set by “Whiskey and Wind.” As is the case with most bands, specialization is vital, and Jesus and the Argonauts work best when they’re stepping in time with the gentle gait that is at the core of their sound.