Jer Coons is a 20-year-old singer/songwriter who pens straightforward, satisfying pop of the teen-crush inducing variety. His songs speak of lessons and heartbreak and girls, his voice smooth and inoffensive with a very mild tang that helps to deliver the lovesick, sweetheart persona. The compositions won’t be breaking any boundaries or blowing any minds, but they do achieve that pleasing catchiness that makes it easy to nod the head and wait for the enjoyable payoffs. Coons’ vocals and strums are accompanied by guitar, bass, and drums that create a young rock vibe, bringing rhythms and solos that lift the tunes from pure bedroom sap.

Coons also brings a playful feel to his work through ever-grinning photos and a generally silly tone on his website and press materials. He’s admitting his youth, but this behooves him with its insistence on casual enjoyment and relaxed abandonment to pop. His cover of the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” nicely sets the tone, in that the song itself is inarguably pleasing; listeners are then ready for the presentation of his singing style and general boy-and-his-guitar-ness. Tracks like “Legs” and “Boxing the Cold” bring guitar pop if that genre ever existed, and it’s soon clear that Coons can write himself a melody. In the end, he comes off as a good pop guarantee — he does soft but not too sappy, rockin’ but not too loud. He’ll make your head bop shamelessly unless the cheese factor makes you puke first.

Have you ever been so completely enraged with anger that you just wanted to dance your ass off until the break of dawn? If so, then Team Robespierre has the perfect music for you. This Brooklyn band brings the most upbeat form of angst ever delivered through music. Their unique style of electro-punk is just as fitting for the dance floor as it is for the mosh pit; a strangely perfect blend of shouting vocals, 16-bit synthesizer riffs, and pounding rhythms. “Solid Gold” is a stand-out track. It’s like a Sega Genesis soundtrack that college kids can vent through. Team Robespierre’s hooks are often reminiscent of 80’s new wave, such as the frighteningly catchy “This Feels Perfect.” “88^th Precinct” contains a breakdown that would make the heaviest hardcore band envious, and there isn’t even a guitar to be heard at that particular moment. It’s refreshingly odd how naturally Team Robespierre blends their different influences. They have a sense of pop music as well as underground, both of which somehow shine through as completely genuine. Already touring the country and getting positive reviews from numerous publications, Team Robespierre will probably be the next musical act from Brooklyn to go huge.

“We are guys that love to play music that we like,” say Chris Stanfield and the Naturals. A bold statement from a little band based in Greensboro, NC, but judging by what they’ve produced so far, the music these guys like is good.

Thoroughly modern and enticingly retro — that’s the best way to describe Chris Stanfield and the Naturals. A local favorite, the band’s current lineup includes Chris Stanfield (Lead Vocals/Lead Guitar), Grant Prewette (Bass Guitar/Vocals) and John Michael Harris (Rhythm Guitar). Their music is eclectic and rich. “1 More Minute” could be a Tom Petty cover, while “59” could have been The Wallflowers long-awaited second hit single. It seems that Stanfield (credited with writing most of the band’s repertoire) can induce nothing less than that often strived for, rarely achieved, feel-good rock for the gaggle of dedicated regulars that tag along with the guys on the Greensboro’s bars and clubs circuit.

The band’s greatest feat thus far is the song, “Cry Cry Cry.” By all accounts this should sound like a modern cover of a Carl Perkins song, but there’s a spark to it that makes it more — and instead of reminiscing about a time when treading on a pair of blue suede shoes was the ultimate party foul, you’re there, hearing that spark-ignited Rock ‘n’ Roll America — whether you were there the first time or not.

But don’t try to label these boys just yet. They’ve also got a quiet ballad that is strikingly contemporary. The lyrics alone sting with vulnerability and the emotion is as raw as the mix. It’s hard not to let Stanfield’s honest intonations under your skin as he sings, “Oh, Bill Murray, why are you so sad?” That’s right — this song is about Bill Murray. If that doesn’t bring a few tears of compassion, try listening to it after re-watching Groundhog’s Day.

The Naturals currently have no music available for download, but can be seen playing pretty regularly in and around Greensboro. At this time they are still unsigned, but it’s hard to imagine they’ll stay so for long.

Brooklyn’s Brit & the Cavalry take the classic formula of singer/songwriter + backing band and add in a whole lot of quirk and flair, distinguishing themselves easily with these refreshing bits of originality. Brit Boras’ strong musical background is apparent as she brings jazz guitar and violin training to pop tunes, along with her willful, fiery singing. Backed by drummer Alex Beckmann (of Mem) and bassist Dan Krysa, Boras takes the lead with her seductive and empowered voice in a mix that might be called mildly psychedelic folk rock. “Melt Into Flames” introduces pretty guitar strums and squeaky computer zips before breaking into a swirling forest dance, accordion notes driving a hint of a Renn fest feel. “Hey There” brings it in full with fluttering panpipe, though the tribal chanting and spastic trumpet do much to establish their own mood. It’s a surprise, then, when the song reaches its chorus that delivers layered girl-group vocals that seem to warn “don’t mess with me.” Brooklyn’s Brit & the Cavalry have a lot of ideas going on in their heads, and they succeed at folding them into engaging and sometimes eccentric pop.

Unfortunately, the lyrics spend a great deal of time on the far side of unintelligible, making it hard to judge the topics of discourse. This also leads to several of the songs being hard to distinguish from one another. Of course, this certainly isn’t helped by the fact that on several tracks the guitar solos are just as indistinguishable. The song “Youth” stands out as the most memorable with its upbeat pace, but the vocal track has more reverb then one could get in a naturally aquatic studio.  

What Beach Fossils do they seem to do well, but time can only judge whether they can do anything else. The band, made up of Dustin Payseur, John Pena and Christopher Burke, are currently on tour.

A better name for New York’s Sosohuman would be Generic.  Their album Twenty-Six (2006) is at best like listening to 43-minutes of rock radio during the mid 1990s to early 2000s and at worst like listening to one continuous song.  Think of Eve 6, Papa Roach, Tantrick, Puddle of Mudd, or, I don’t know, any other band that you filed under “Bands I’m Now Ashamed To Say I Listened To In 8^th Grade.”  It doesn’t help matters that lead singer Earl sounds like a ringer for Gavin Rossdale-Stefani, with his forced and whiny vocals on full display during the painful beginning of “Punisher” (an ironically appropriate title). 

One would think, or hope, as a race we’d progressed far enough beyond our taste for this saturated commercial “rock” that plagued us ten years ago, but apparently there is still an audience for this kind of music for it to still have a place in the world.  Even more unfortunate is that the band continues to make music to this day and their newest offering Strong Fan (2009), which oddly enough sounds exactly like their last album, is available through iTunes.  Bland Music – 1, Humanity – 0.  

“Pet Ghost Project,” a one-man band turned three-man band, is less on the electronic side of things and far more into indie-punk. Their mostly instrumental songs epically swell toward layered climaxes of boxed-up guitars and dried-up drums. The non-sustained, riff-based songwriting seems like a trick, however, and one that runs out its welcome after a few songs. The trick is creating cool soundscapes out of layering guitars, introducing a riff and then meshing part upon part for development. But on tracks like “Power Symbol,” the lack of melodic interest and repetition becomes stagnant quickly. There is little musical tension, so most of the layers can do little but build up the listener’s sense of the song not going anywhere. 

The two songs from the album Idiot brain/genius heart (called “Wires from the Ceiling” and “Short Name”) are more interesting, partly because they have vocal melodies (the singer sounding Death Cab For Cutie-like). There is a cool moment of airy lightness halfway through “Wires from the Ceiling,” with spoken word about disasters, and a great mix of acoustic and electric guitars, keyboard, and vocal harmony. “Age of Automatics” is the angry sort of garage rock (with automated clangs) that is reminiscent of early Modest Mouse, but without much development beyond the initial information. “Producing Emotions” is another great vocal melody to cling to, and “Encore” is a lo-fi banquet of interlaced guitars, ending with a larger than life intensity.

“Pet Ghost Project” does what all other great bands do, using sounds like personalities and trying to get a combo that works. But they just aren’t as interesting as many other indie bands of our day — they lack an experimental edge, catchy melodies, a compelling group personality, and any sort of useful tension. 

When was the last time you heard a song that is obviously about a girl sleeping around? Was it D’Angelo? Or Bruce Springsteen? The Shivers revive the genre. While claiming to be the best rock ‘n’ roll band in NYC, they are folksy, indie, acoustic, jammy, and enigmatic. Shivers add a bleak and simplistic guitar, tinny bass, and barely-there drums background to desperate, tortured vocals, and a variety of styles that sound similar but are still interesting.

A focus is the lyrics, which are placidly poetic. On the heartbreak balled “Just Didn’t Need to Know” the low, breathy, male lead sings: “I learned so many things about you I just didn’t need to/but I can’t myself, I’m sick, I still love you so.” The song is darkly entrancing, so straightforward and intense, you can hear the anger, bitterness, regret, and longing in the singer’s voice.

“Beauty” is a slow, lonely, whiny, Bob Dylan/Leonard Cohen amalgamation (Cohen is listed as their only influence), and some of their songs are struck with well-timed, catchy melodies, like the bouncy keyboard line “African Passport.” “Cold in the Morning #2” features a lo-fi female vocalist over sustained organ and carnivalesque chorus, while “Shallow Water” is raw electric blues and distorted vocals. They bring solemnity and intensity to everything they do.

Screaming Females is perhaps the most independent of any indie band that has ever called itself as such. The trio from New Brunswick, NJ — a part of the country, one should note, which has an unexpectedly spectacular music scene — have been an underground staple for years, more often found playing living rooms and basements than licensed venues.   

The band’s name is somewhat misleading as only one of the three is female — lead singer Marissa Paternoster, a punk Grace Slick with enough scream to make up for the nonexistent plural she fronts. 

Musically, the band could be compared to a grungier Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but that comparison seems to take away from how purely unique they sound. The music pumps with the authority of world-weary youth and guttural sounds we all have felt, at some point in our lives, most appropriate to express our feelings. The guitar, also played by Paternoster, tears through speakers with the same talons as her voice. Calmly tribal and ferociously intimate, it’s got enough intravenous passion to be lethal to any half-conscious group of moshing teenagers in NJ.  The song “Boyfriend” itself is a warbled epiphany, a perfection of alternative rock. 

Many bands have a trademark songwriting formula, and Brooklyn’s Up Died Sound utilizes one that is immediately identifiable to even the casual listener: intriguing yet simple guitar riffs + lo-fi drums + minimal vocal chants + tons of repetition = Up Died Sound. And though the equation is there, it doesn’t necessarily all add up. Their songs run an average of about five minutes long but usually consist of only two main parts. Even when layers of evolving guitar licks are added, they are subtle and mostly drowned out by the general monotony of the overall track. To be fair, each of the four songs on their Myspace page does have its own personality, from the Arabic vibe of “Intro (Kera Sevda)” to the strangely funky and seemingly NES-inspired “Emotion Sickness.” Perhaps it is the band’s intention to create a mind-numbing experience through music. Such a mood is certainly present, though it is slightly more irritating than interesting. Up Died Sound’s true potential is a hidden treasure, their uncontrollable penchant for repetition being the sand that buries it.