Look who’s back. After a couple of years away and an interim solo album, Joel Plaskett has rounded up the Emergency once more and put together… a concept album?

Well, let’s be fair; this isn’t the first time the Joel Plaskett Emergency have strayed into this territory. In Need of Medical Attention’s loose theme was about the death of Plaskett’s grandfather, who was himself a doctor. Ashtray Rock is entirely different; there’s a narrative, told in song and illustration thanks to Rebecca Kraatz, about two kids who start a band, meet a girl, fight over her, and break up. Another story ripped from the headlines of Plaskett’s life? Not exactly—though “Drunk Teenagers” in particular namechecks a bunch of his old haunts in Halifax, and it’s been mentioned before that even if the story isn’t true, the subject matter isn’t far from Plaskett’s usual trade.

Instead of the relatively straightforward execution of both Truthfully, Truthfully and the outstanding Down At The Khyber, however, Ashtray Rock takes a couple of stylistic detours. First single “Fashionable People” isn’t the usual barroom-burning rock anthem; it’s a song more likely to shake your hips than bang your head. “Chinatown / For The Record” takes the quiet, contemplative mood from Plaskett’s solo outing, La De Da, and turns the melodrama knobs to 11 with some tasteful strings.

Ultimately it’s not exactly the sort of album that inspired the same kind of devotion as Down By The Khyber. I’ve told friends of mine who’ve witnessed my pint-fueled antics at various Plaskett shows that it felt like my Plaskett era ended once I left university. Ashtray Rock can only go so far towards rekindling that passion. But I’ll be surprised if the Joel Plaskett Emergency doesn’t win itself a new legion of followers thanks to this album; considering how hard the boys have worked over the years, criss-crossing the country with endearing stories and a growing library of outstanding songs, they deserve every last bit of adoration.

Maybe someone, somewhere in the mid-90s, had a feverish dream about the perfect musical concoction, and when they woke up all they could remember was the phrase, “you got your classic rock in my math rock!” And then maybe they carried that mantra with them through the years, like a glass slipper for all the bands in the world to try on, but nothing ever quite fit. The dream would have to wait a year, you said—and then another year passed, and another, until finally you’d just about given up. If you are that person with the undreamable dream, don’t wake up yet: your band is finally here, and its name is Black Taj.

Not long after the demise of the legendary math rock band Polvo, two of its members decided to try something new. In 1998 Black Taj started to come together, though its identity as a band has perhaps always been in danger; apparently learning nothing from the events that caused the Polvo breakup, Black Taj started life with its four members scattered across the country. North Carolina served as the unofficial home base, much like it did for Polvo, but because of the long distances between members playing together was tough. Finally, after years of occasional practices and a lost drummer, Black Taj finally put out an album in late 2005. And it is essentially summed up by the phrase, “you got your classic rock in my math rock!” No longer nearly so wilfully obtuse with guitar tunings or time signatures, Black Taj is probably an easier proposition than Polvo ever was. But listen closely and the rambling, acrobatic guitar passages still recall the sorts of tricks Polvo used to pull. For old Polvo fans who’ve all but given up on Ash Bowie ever doing another Libraness album, Black Taj should be right up your alley.

Someone introduced the High Violets to me as a mix of the Cocteau Twins and shoegazer bands like Lush. This strikes me as somewhat redundant; there may be differences in volume and style, but it always seemed like shoegazer owed a certain debt to the Cocteau Twins anyways, so it’s no great stretch to imagine the two put together and pureed into some new, frothy concoction. And that’s exactly what you get from the High Violets: swirling, paper-thin layers of guitars, ethereal female vocals courtesy of Kaitlyn ni Donovan, and an overall atmosphere that recalls the dreamier side of early-90s shoegazer.

So are the High Violets a throwback band? Well, my sense of perspective is pretty shot when it comes to music history; stuff from the late 90s sounds just as good to me today as it did when it first came out, so how can I be a reliable judge of whether the High Violets bring anything new to the table? I will say this, though; the decade and a half since the likes of Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine have brought a wealth of new recording technologies, such that it’s easier than ever to get a decent sound with relatively little cash. Partially because of that, and partially because of stylistic choices the High Violets have made I’m sure, the tracks I’ve heard off To Where You Are recall the shoegazer aesthetic without falling into the occasionally murky production of the earlier years. Donovan’s vocals are crystal clear, and the guitars sparkle with life instead of fading into the aether. It’s a lot easier to appreciate To Where You Are as just a bunch of dream-pop songs; you don’t have to be a big shoegazer fan to appreciate songs like “Chinese Letter.”

Of course, it certainly helps some if you are. And I am, so of course I’ve made a point to pick up To Where You Are…

Charlotte Hatherley’s new album, The Deep Blue, arrived at pretty much the perfect moment: on the cusp of spring and warm weather. Of course, then we had the big cold snap and snow; such is the nature of spring in Ontario. But where the punk-pop attack of Grey Will Fade worked so wonderfully as a summer album, The Deep Blue’s more layered, less overtly poppy approach seems better suited to May than July.

Perhaps it’s a matter of geography; Grey Will Fade was recorded in L.A., a side product of Ash’s decision to record Meltdown in California. The Deep Blue, by contrast, was largely recorded in Italy, a much more sublime experience than the Sunset Strip. And so it goes with the album, which trades much more in atmospherics this time around. So while there’s no frenetic, radio-friendly singles like “Bastardo” or “Kim Wilde,” they’re hardly missed alongside more relaxed fare like “Be Thankful,” “Wounded Sky” and penultimate track “It Isn’t Over.”

The question of what albums you’d take with you if you were stranded on a deserted island is a clichéd one, but sure enough that’s what comes to mind with The Deep Blue—not so much that it’s an essential album, though it is very good, but that the songs seem to so perfectly evoke the sensation of relaxing on a subtropical island in the South Pacific. So maybe not an album to take with you to a deserted island, but rather the album you put on if you want to take a deserted island with you wherever you go.

Unexpected news: Mary Timony’s coming out with a new album in May. Not only that, she played SXSW 2007 not once, but twice! Somehow, in all the Austin coverage I managed to miss this, so back into the interwebs for a scoop on what The Shapes We Make might sound like. What did I manage to dig up? Not much—the Onion AV Club was underwhelmed by her Saturday night set, which isn’t that surprising considering Timony’s stage presence has always been a bit shaky. Ah, but here’s word on what to expect from an unlikely source: MTV News. Yup, apparently they still have something to do with music! From James Montgomery’s notes:

Then, in one of those “Woah, look who’s playing?!?” moments that totally makes SXSW worth it, I glanced at my schedule and noticed that former Helium frontwoman/my teenage crush Mary Timony was about to take the stage at Emo’s tiny “IV” venue. So I rushed over and heard her unspool songs from her upcoming album The Shapes We Make, which were pretty excellent in that spacey, super-proggy “Revolution of Hearts, Pt. 1 & 2″ kind of way (OK, 14 people in the world know what I’m talking about right now, and most of them were probably at the show) …

If you’re one of the approximately 6.5 billion people in the world who didn’t know what Montgomery was talking about, fret not. You’re about to get an education. I bring you the eight-minute centerpiece to Helium’s fantastic final album, The Magic City: “The Revolution of Hearts Parts I & II.”