Father John Misty
Do You Realize?
J. Tillman and company cover the Flaming Lips at the behest of the A.V. Club. Don’t watch the video, because Tillman looks like a goof in it (3-D glasses are a questionable choice for anyone), but holy hell, that man can sing.

Charli XCX
You’re the One
(IAMSOUND) She’s pretty—a little too pretty—and she sings sparkly pop songs with love-it-or-hate-it vocal affectation. She could be this year’s Lana Del Rey, and here’s betting Charli XCX isn’t even her real name.

Nas
Loco-Motive (Def Jam)
Over an old-school beat blended with the rumble of a subway, Nasir Jones makes it clear that his billing as one of the greatest MCs in the history of rap isn’t just hype. If hip-hop is dead, its ghost sounds pretty damn good.

The Very Best
We OK (Moshi Moshi)
With Malawi-born Londoner Esau Mwamwaya in the lead and Somali-Canadian K’Naan along for the ride, the Very Best’s globe-spanning electro-soukous is a ray of much-needed sunshine in our sopping summer.

Big Nils
Looking Through My Eyeballs (Independent)
Bass-blitzed teenage noise-punk featuring Coco Gordon Moore on snotty snarls and the odd screech. If that name sounds vaguely familiar, it might be because her parents are named Kim and Thurston.

Municipal Waste
Covered in Sick/The Barfer (Nuclear Blast)
Kind of reminds us of that time we went to a metalcore show at the prerenovated Cobalt and ended up being painted by the stomach contents of a squeegee kid who smelled like Spam and rubbing alcohol.

Walk the Moon
I Can Lift a Car (RCA)
The crazy thing is that despite the chorus, it’s not about picking up automobiles at all, but instead a jangly ode to making out on futons, spying on your other half in the shower, and meeting chicks who wear glasses.

Cribs
Back to the Bolthole (Wichita) Because we spend a good three hours a day surfing for porn on the Intraweb, we originally read this guitar-damaged art rocker as "Back to the Butthole". And that only made it more awesome.

Dusted
Low Humming (Hand Drawn Dracula)
Because Dusted traffics in a strain of anti-folk that’s low-key, mildly depressing, and therefore perfect for overcast days, it’s hard to think of a better soundtrack for summer in Vancouver.

Jukebox the Ghost
Ghosts in Empty Houses (YepRoc)
Soaring synth pop spiked with cow-punk vocals that’s so infectious, you almost forget the song is about how America is going to shit faster than you can say, well, America is really going to shit.

Antony and the Johnsons
You Are My Sister (Secretly Canadian)
Goddamn if Antony Hegarty doesn’t write the most gorgeous piano ballads this side of Cat Power. If you can get through this symphonic wonder without tearing up, your soul is officially dead.