Ah, romance! The world may be falling apart but that doesn’t mean people still can’t find time for love, reconciliation and maybe even a bright and hopeful future. There’s a definite brink-of-disaster underpinning to many of the releases under scrutiny this month, and such underlying tension can only mean one thing: Great artistic rewards for the studious listener. So listen up and enjoy – because who knows when that sky’s finally going to fall?

+ Arctic Monkeys: Favourite Worst Nightmare
+ Battles: Mirrored
+ Björk: Volta
+ Cornelius: Sensuous
+ The Field: From Here We Go Sublime
+ The National: Boxer
+ Patrick Wolf: The Magic Position

Arctic Monkeys: Favourite Worst Nightmare
Domino, Warner Bros., 2007
Rating: 3.7
Favourite Worst Nightmare, the sophomore effort from this slavishly-praised Sheffield indie rock band, is more compact and notably more accomplished than its 2006 debut Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. Frontman Alex Turner turns his lyrical attentions toward the violence of young romance, be it of the emotional or physical varieties, and typically a combination of the two. From the distressed aftermath of “Do Me a Favour” (“Well the morning was complete/ There was tears on the steering wheel/ Dripping on the seat”) to the closing heartbreak of “505″ (“But I crumble completely when you cry/ It seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye”), the essential vibe is one of urgency, excitation and harrowing despair — overblown emotions for the Romeo and Juliet set. Turner nails that melodrama that’s so easy to look back on with embarrassment but feels so dramatically relevant in the flower of youth. Musically, the band still hasn’t shaken its Strokes-y influence, but at least on tracks like “Fluorescent Adolescent,” they trump their inspiration. Favourite Worst Nightmare proves the Arctic Monkeys haven’t been overwhelmed by fame. It’s a rare exception where youth doesn’t appear to have been completely wasted on the young.

Battles: Mirrored
Warp, 2007
Rating: 3.9
Imagine a group of ridiculously proficient musicians having fun in a recording studio, unaware someone left the tape machine running. (And, uh, the magic gnomes that come in later and work in loops and beats, slathering everything with a pristine computerized glaze.) That’s Mirrored, the debut from the multi-gifted quartet Battles. Opener “Race: In” sounds like a send-up of Yes at its most indulgently proggy; “Atlas” features overbaked vocals and John Stanier’s incredible drum technique. The intentionally goofy vocalizations continue on “Leyendecker,” while penultimate cut “Tij” sounds like the soundtrack to some LSD-fueled spy movie that never got made (but perhaps should have been). Battles is show-offy but in a loose, enlivened manner. This is like the TNT of whatever “post-rock” was supposed to be: over –done/tweaked/processed. If you’re in on the gag, it’s a pretty exhilarating ride.

Björk: Volta
One Little Indian / Atlantic, 2007
Rating: 3.8
Given the highly collaborative nature of Björk’s Volta, the album all but begs to be assessed based on the merits of discrete blocks of tracks. Aside from those handled by the artist herself, it basically comes down to acclaimed hip-hop producer Timbaland and longtime Björk colleague Mark Bell. Timbaland gets off to a solid start with “Earth Intruders,” a dense, moody piece with a martial beat that sets an apocalyptic tone (almost unavoidable with lyrics referencing a “beast with many heads”). “Innocence” finds him stumbling, though, as the club thump finds itself in conflict with fragile vocalizations regarding embracing one’s fears. “Hope” features more exotic instrumentation and is the most un-Timbaland-like of the three cuts appearing here. Bell gets one less chance to impress, but both his efforts are keepers: “I See Who You Are” is an ideal expression of the familiar Björk sound, featuring her signature voice, nice strings and a complementary brass section, and “Declare Independence” is the best thing here, with its insistent titular refrain overlaying smartly-sequenced electronic squawks and excitations, culminating in the triumphant chant “Raise your flag/ Higher! Higher!” – a genuinely charged moment befitting the album’s energized aesthetic and theme. The biggest dud belongs to Björk alone (Antony of “and the Johnsons” fame gets off thanks to a commendable vocal performance). “The Dull Flame of Desire” is a lame duet drawn out way too long and inexplicably taken from a 19th poem read in Stalker, a film by acclaimed Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky. Still, Volta’s lack of cohesion doesn’t undermine its overall effectiveness. Despite the often grim lyrics, there’s a lot of beauty here. It’s just a matter of picking and choosing the high points.

Cornelius: Sensuous
Everloving, 2007
Rating: 4.1
Sensuous is just that, Keigo Oyamada’s “big sexy” Cornelius record. As stated in interviews, Oyamada utilized a furin (a glass wind chime) as the base sound for the album. And it’s that graceful, serene tone that opens and closes the work. In between, however, Oyamada gets a serious groove on. “Fit Song” is a nicely layered piece, intricate and popping with keywords and exclamation points. Its complement, “Beep It,” plays off the same terse wordplay and a wonderfully insistent rhythm, an oddly asexual ode to sex. Of the two sketches here, “Toner” (piano, typewriter and random tones) proves more interesting than throwaway “Scum” (string tunings and malformed tapes manipulations). Funky, soothing, buoyant and passionate, Sensuous is a welcome return from one of the world’s more creative cut-and-paste artists.

The Field: From Here We Go Sublime
Kompakt, 2007
Rating: 3.5
Overthinking From Here We Go Sublime, the debut full-length from Axel Willner (operating under the handle The Field), is easy. Start with the crystalline, clear opener “Over the Ice” and steadily come undone, evidenced most dramatically by a jarring glitch heard toward the end of “Sun & Ice.” Surely global-warming proponents have found the soundtrack to their message. The contrivance of things falling apart doesn’t really fit, though. Willner is more interested in crafting a work useful for those looking to get their chill on. That he succeeds in doing this is a given (even if hard glitches shock some unsuspecting headphone listeners out of their grooves). Sublime glides along, mostly at a casual tempo, though “The Deal” finds Willner strapping on a faster pair of skates. Such a change of pace is never a bad thing, especially when dealing with repetitive loops. (”A Paw in My Face,” for example, is built on a sample of Lionel Richie’s “Hello.”) Is From Here We Go Sublime innovative or astonishing? No. Is it appealing and pleasant? Yes.

The National: Boxer
Beggars Banquet, 2007
Rating: 4.3
Imagine 2005’s Alligator as the in-the-moment night out — expression without time for reflection. Boxer, The National’s fourth album, is the afterglow. There’s no shouting (a la “Abel”), just somber self-examination and morose piano keys. Singer/lyricist Matt Berninger comments on being “half-awake” in “Fake Empire,” and that pretty much sets the tone. Even the comparatively revved-up moments like “Apartment Story” mention “getting tired” even while being “wired.” This is elegantly wasted stuff, urbane and romantic, bleary-eyed but hyper-aware. Many will prefer the greater immediacy of Alligator, and it’s got the attention-grabbing advantage to be sure. But there are just as many wonderful hooks to be found here (”Squalor Victoria” and “Racing Like a Pro” being two excellent examples). The National aren’t reinventing anything so much as refining a sound that’s been steadily maturing since the band’s self-titled debut in 2001.

Patrick Wolf: The Magic Position
Universal, 2007
Rating: 4.0
The Magic Position, Patrick Wolf’s third full-length release, finds a happy balance between the heavy electro-glam sound heard on his debut Lycanthropy and the gorgeous, drenched-in brooding-romanticism follow-up Wind in the Wires. Magic Position’s title track may emphasize living life in a “major key,” but “The Bluebell” is manic-depressively dour and melancholy. It’s this swirling uncertainty of emotions that provide heft to the familiar “love-me, love-me-not” desires at play throughout. Musically, Position is Wolf’s strongest effort, with its centerpiece, “Bluebells,” exhibiting clever orchestration as cascading strings reinforce the line “A river runs through the rafters down, down, down.” Another keeper is “Magpie,” a duet with Marianne Faithfull that plays off of Wolf’s youthful optimism and Faithfull’s seen-it-all world-weariness.

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