Balancing the off-kilter with the familiar, Cold War Kids have created a heavy buzz. The best starting point is the band’s first full-length album, “Robbers & Cowards.” The opening track, “We Used to Vacation,” is a simple, eloquent track about the doldrums of a binger, sounding like a bluesy Maroon 5 that, like most of the band’s music, churns modern pop rock trends with blues influences.

Guitars, piano and percussion take turns driving the music. Strong downbeats keep melodies suspenseful, not counting softer musical sketches like “Robbers” and “Pregnant.” Nathan Willett’s oddly soulful wail is an instrument in itself (great on the raw-sounding hidden track), and a perfect fit for the indie genre.

What sets this debut album apart from most is the spun-out moods created from song to song, from verse to chorus, from note to note. Partway through the second track, “Hang Me Up To Dry,” thanks to an offguard piano riff, this seems like an adventurous album by a band already with a few EPs under its belt (technically, it is). The band delivers blues rock that fans of The White Stripes gobble up, and takes a direct songwriting approach that would fit on the back side of Bob Dylan’s “John Wesley Harding.” “Saint John” and “Tell Me In The Morning” are both keepers for the playlist.

Cold War Kids released a follow-up, “Loyalty To Loyalty,” in September.

Colin Lake and Wellbottom spring from the Portland blues scene with a bit more fire than most. The band’s blues rock, centered around Lake’s slide guitar, is sharp and stinging from the get-go on its debut CD, “Bullet.” It sounds like it was recorded somewhere in the Cascade Mountains, which it was.

The album pays equal homage to RL Burnside’s electric delta blues and the Allman Brothers’ southern blues rock stew. Colin Lake and Wellbottom aren’t afraid to alter the standards of their influences either, however. Deejay Redi Jedi, the group’s fifth member, helps create a modern take of Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breakin’ Down” with some rubs and scratches on turntables.

The Wellbottom trio, Kevin Marcotte (bass), Paul Ansotegui (drums) and Bryan Appel (guitar) has honed a tight improvisation style that’s equal parts jazz, funk and R&B, displayed on the 8 1/2-minute closer, “Special Rider (All Over Town).”

Lake plays the road-tested gunslinger often, telling hard tales on “The Way I Am” and “Mean Old World,” which he pulls off impressively for a 27-year-old. He does open up to some brighter emotion on the radio friendly “Red Cross.” In the heart of the album, on “Mountainside,” Lake’s tale of coming demise is matched with a midtempo groove that steadily builds and tells the same story as the lyrics.

“Bullet” tends to sound like everyone else at times, but Lake and Wellbottom serve up over an hour of solid blues that easily suffices.

Powered by the motto, “Pop is good for you,” Pop Archeology Transmission presents its debut album, “It Is What It Is,” an effort that treats pop music as an art first and a chestnut second.

The 20-track project, by two Vancouver, Wash., friends Paul Ellis and Kevin Bowen, melds a slew of pop variants together, from sunny California pop to lush, breezy Brit pop. The album is decorative, the two use a digital database of instruments, and an ambient mood surrounds the easy melodies and songwriting.

The opener, “She Blew It Like a Kiss” doesn’t offer too much, but a stylistic synthesizer gets things moving better on the power pop “Paper Castles.” The songs that hit with a quick, folksie hook do best, like “Getting It Together Knowing it Would Come Undone” and “Forklift Ballet” (both at a minute-and-a-half), where the sounds and lyrics churn like a music factory of some kind.

There is also a great singer-songwriter duet slightly hidden behind the innovation and production. “Who Wants To Be Human” sounds like a mature Paul Simon and “Got This Far” mixes the baroque style of Nick Drake and the soft grace of Elliot Smith.

Overall, there is a lot jammed into this hour of music. A few wistful lulls occur, but the pop waves of “It Is What It Is” continue to roll regardless, finding a nice balance between the straightforward and the obscure.

The wait is over. After 15 years, after $12 million spent and after a hard rock soap opera of a story, the world finally has a new Guns N’ Roses album, “Chinese Democracy.” Time will tell how this album is ultimately accepted (there’s still a lingering shock it was even finished) but for now it’s difficult to regard it more as a heaping pile of too much and too many: too much studio time, too many varieties of artistic direction and too much Wall of Sound.

There is an asterisk to our thoughts of “Chinese Democracy.” What basis is there to compare to? An album with such a build up comes maybe once a generation. Think of the many subgenres that came and went in the time span this album was being pieced together. Only if it became one of the all-time greats would Axl Rose’s marathon efforts be deemed fully warranted – and everyone knew that wouldn’t be the case.

With that in mind, if you must indulge (and if you’re a fan, you should), do so with mediocre expectations and heed the words of Axl Rose, “It’s just an album.”

And there’s plenty good stuff in the nooks and crannies of “Chinese Democracy.” It’s chock-full of ear-splitting guitar solos by a handful of today’s best shredders, and there is 10 minutes on Side B – “I.R.S.” and “Madagascar” – that nicely mix the GN’R of yore with Rose’s somewhat progressive, still over-the-top rock persona. Overall, it’s a fitting representation of the befuddled turmoil and unsure directions associated with the making of “Chinese Democracy.”

I first saw Mason Jennings in concert in 2003 at the Aladdin Theater in Portland. He had just released his third album, Century Springs. His easy-going, beauty-laden tunes carried the folkster through the end of his encore. And then he came out for a second encore. He played Rage Against The Machine’s “Bulls On Parade,” distorting his plugged in acoustic guitar with the deranged precision necessary to pull off Rage in such a setting. I became a Mason Jennings fan at that moment.

I caught Mason in concert at the Wonder Ballroom on Sunday. It was my fourth time seeing Mason, and third in a row without any Rage.

It was my first trip to the Wonder in Northeast P-Town. It has a cozy atmosphere and makes me think of a remodeled elementary school gym. Good place to see a live show.

I’ve always wanted Mason to evoke the inner RATM fan inside him and record a rock album. I imagine such an album would piss off Mason fans in the same way Dylan fans were at the 1963 Newport Folk Festival. Alas, I was presented with nothing of the sort on Sunday.

But that’s just a personal gripe. Jennings was in true form, the best I’ve seen him (minus the lack of raucousness), playing a set that covered his entire six-album career. The highlight, for me, was hearing “I Love You and Buddah Too,” off his new In The Ever album, live for the first time. I can’t get enough of this track. It’s catchy, it’s thoughtful, it’s quick (just over two minutes) and flat out a good piece of songwriting from one of today’s essential songwriters. As my friend and Van Voice contributor Sarah Cate put it: “Steely Dan certainly proved that using ‘Bodhisattva’ works and Jennings runs with it with ‘Ramakrishna…muhammed’ those are just good rhymes to be had!”

Jennings stretched the song out in concert, which was great; I’d guess it was four minutes, 30 seconds. The live rendition of “Never Knew Your Name” was also great; it was moody like a feud between sinister and heavenly where the later wins; and it was combined with another track I can’t remember for a sweet medley (should have taken notes).

Two unrecorded songs were revealed to the crowd. The first, “Black,” was written while traveling the Southern tip of Chile for a documentary. Considering the tone of the song and how well a guy like Jennings can deliver a message through music, I think he could become a very respected and popular voice when it comes to modern environmental issues, if he chose to focus on such a cause. The second new one was funny as shit, with the same supercilious character as “Your New Man” It’s called “So Many Ways To Die,” which includes “Having unprotected sex / driving while you text.” The crowd also got to hear a new version of the Jennings’ classic “Sorry Signs On Cash Machines;” same song, but the melody was played on both a keyboard (by opening act and fell Brushfire Records artist Zach Gill of ALO) and an acoustic guitar by Jennings.

On a side note, Zach Gill is a very goofy person and a heck of an accordian player.  

The Tossers predate bands like Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys, but haven’t matched the commercial success of their Irish punk rock peers. Though their name isn’t as big as some, the balance between Celtic music and punk rock is more fluent. The Chicago-outfit plays a folkier brand of Irish punk, driven more by mandolin, fiddle and tin whistle than amped-up guitars and bass, without losing any raucousness.

“On a Fine Spring Evening” is the group’s eighth and defining album. All of the tracks have a feel of old world-meets-new world, being told by literate troubadours. “The Unfamous Paula Spencer” and “Katie At the Races” set the rollicking, sing-along-if-you-can-keep-up tone early, and the band never lets it down. “Terry Obradaigh” and rambunctious “Whiskey Makes Me Crazy” offer some bare-boned punk. The band is most captivating, however, when it innovates, like on one of two instrumentals, “221B / The Sneaky Priest (The Gloria Scott),” a classical, scene-setting medley that shows off the instrumental prowess of The Tossers.

Diversity is the album’s best trait. Song styles, lengths and subjects shift constantly, but everything flows together well. Even the eight-minutes-plus lament “Hunger Strike/Harmony” at the end is captivating. With a bit of good luck, “On a Fine Spring Evening” could mark the point when The Tossers are finally revered as the top of their class, the true assemblers of Celtic tradition and American rock.

Hillstomp is the Northwest’s answer to The Mississippi Allstars. Both bands probably would not be making the music they are if it weren’t for Mississippi blues legend R.L. Burnside. Unlike the Allstars, however, Hillstomp needs only two rockers to pump out plenty of juke joint blues. Guitarist Henry Kammerer and drummer John Johnson recently released the band’s first live album, “After Two But Before Five,” recorded on two nights in Eugene and Portland.

The album kicks off with a roustabout crowd cheering and Burnside’s “Goin’ Down South.” “NE Portland 3am,” from the band’s “The Woman That Ended the World” album, follows. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the first two tracks were written by the same outfit - a simple cover band Hillstomp is not. The original “Dark Clouds a-Risin’” is a swampy lament that complements the rowdy, moonshine-swigging nature of most of the tracks, including Fred McDowell’s “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” and “Mr. Charlie III,” “a song by the Devil.”

Hillstomp’s music, at least in the live setting, is a more visceral concoction of country hill blues than that of the Allstars. The duo sound like they are singing into a bucket most of the time, and the beats often resonate likes several buckets being beaten with big sticks. It’s easy for fans of lo-fi sound and roots music to eat this stuff up.

The new album from Portland’s Kolvane, founder of the Rose City Kings, “Kill These Blues,” is packed with radio-ready independent blues rock. With the same backing band from the RCKs, Kolvane strives for a truly independent sound blending various American and British blues styles. At times it’s unique. At other times it’s a hodgepodge of recognizable sounds that borders the erratic nature of solo work by John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival.

The band taps into southern rock often, producing swamp pop songs “Backslide” and “Whiplash,” but it’s most redeeming characteristic comes on “Goodbye Sweet Harriet,” an embracing roots track that discards any notion that Kolvane is a neo proto-punk band - the group claims an MC5 element but I don’t hear it.

Still, Kolvane challenges mainstream rock conventions often. The title track weaves aggressive blues verses with retro British rock choruses, like plopping Stevie Ray Vaughn in the midst of a Faces rehearsal. “Sun Spot” is an “everyone come together and have a good time” type of song (Kolvane apologizes for preaching midsong) with a Portland-friendly rap interlude from Ms. Su’ad, and “Cards,” written by keyboardist Steve Kerin, drops some funk into the mix.

Kolvane delivers a bit of the uniquely American experience he advertises on “Kill These Blues.” If anything, he gives listeners their money’s worth with over an hour of well-crafted songs and skilled musicianship.