When frontman Greg Jamie pinches his voice throughout O'Death's third album, he's channeling old, weird dudes whose songs might curl and twang from a remote Appalachian wireless. But he comes out sounding closer to Frank Black, who is also, at this point, old and weird, and might as well be beaming in from an imagined (and just as distant) college-radio station. Either way, no problem. Armed with the Arcade Fire pyro-dynamics everyone finds so addictive these days, the Brooklyn quintet remains as bombastic as you can get while still playing... More >>>