A Day Late & A Dollar Short has real focus, showing a thoughtful and concentrated effort by both Sene and Blu to make this album about exactly what the title implies: survival and hunger.

The masked dual vocal moans and chants and the furious beats and distortions add up to an aggressively beautiful sound that’s both calming and exciting at the same time. The new EP builds spectacularly from the blueprint of the first, with the addition of Prefuse 73’s production, a year of growing confidence and a bunch of new toys.

Remember how Sick Boy in Trainspotting quit heroin at the same time as Renton, just to show how easily he could do it? The Cthulhus bully Nathan Williams in the same way; they’re clearly mining Wavves territory, and yet they do it so effortlessly.

You’d be wise to catch one of Whispering Pines’ live gigs around L.A. or pick up Family Tree at the local record shop. There aren’t too many self-released debut albums of this quality coming out these days.

The Light Rays’ lo-fi, up-tempo, reverb-saturated pop has echoes of the Cleaners From Venus or the Clean—but those are merely reference points to navigate by, not albatrosses around their necks. The Light Rays pull off the parlor trick of being fairly straightforward yet compellingly original. If only every group from Orange County could be as cool.

Grossi’s specialty is dreamy synth pop with lush atmospheric arrangements and sweeping choral vocals, and “She Was A Vision” certainly fits into this mold. Grossi participated in choirs throughout his childhood, and the influence of choral singing is very apparent. As he pleads “Don’t go,” the song threatens to break your heart—but at the same time, it’s strangely comforting.

Picture yourself on a boat on a river, riding on the wave of a musical crescendo as you’re taken by a hazy groove and the swell of an organ … and then the drugs take effect. The new EP from Los Angeles-based quintet Spirit Vine offers three psychedelically fueled tracks that synesthetically alter the senses and tantalize the ear’s taste buds.

The juxtaposition between the cobblestone of the old country and the winding of Mulholland Drive creates a viable soundtrack for any cinematic experience, including the following suggestions: a pleasant wake ‘n’ bake sesh, a great day of surfing (in slow motion), driving through a snowstorm, or coming down off acid during twilight.

It’s been said that Uphill Gardeners represent some kind of No Wave by way of Los Angeles, but No Wave always seems like such a New York thing that it comes off as slightly disingenuous to assign them that signifier when they’ve got so much happening on their own merits. Primitive disorienting art rock might be a better way to put it; “moody noise noir” might make even more sense, but only time will tell.