A more mature mode

Depeche Mode

“Sounds of the Universe”

Mute/Capitol/Virgin

* * *

The best pop music is a work in progress, as artists refine and reignite their core sounds and vision one album at a time. In that way, Depeche Mode is a tighter operation than ever, a band of world-weary New Wave survivors still working from an early template but who began to do their most lasting work only at the end of the ‘80s, with provocative statements like “Stripped” and “Personal Jesus.”

That bleak tone is frequently recaptured on their newest release, “Sounds of the Universe,” beginning with “In Chains,” a brooding seven-minute romantic melodrama that hums and crackles with electronics as singer Dave Gahan seethes: “The way you are has left me burning.” He’s gifted at expressing desperate love, putting a gospel twist on the band’s bitter hard-drive heart.

The best of these 13 tracks are inflamed with similar human emotion, using icy cool electronics as dramatic contrast to the feeling within “Hole to Feed,” which percolates with vintage synth effects and the twang of Martin Gore’s full-bodied acoustic guitar. It represents a harder edge than many of the pop acts inspired by Depeche Mode’s example, beginning with the Killers. “Come Back” is practically industrial rock, with fuzzy, dirty sounds and a singer again in agony. On “Little Soul,” Gahan announces: “This little voice is going to sing / I have no choice.”

Those songs work spectacularly well, but there are equally stunning misfires when the band leans too heavily on past formula. “Jezebel” is the kind of torrid song of wounded love David Bowie might have sent into orbit, but here it’s overcooked and windy. And without Gahan’s breathless voice, the instrumental “Space Walk” is lightweight cosmic candy well suited for a 1981 video game. It stands out all the more alongside the harder-edged tracks.

One of those, “Corrupt,” closes the album with waves of sound designed to build a get-tough atmosphere. It’s the perfect soundtrack for your bitter robot soul.

--

Steve Appleford

--

We’re in on Art Brut’s joke

Art Brut

“Art Brut vs. Satan”

Downtown

* *

Has there ever been a band with less use for a name-brand producer than England’s Art Brut? Since they first appeared in 2004 with the instant blog hit “Formed a Band,” these scrappy pub-punk goofballs have demonstrated an almost pathological aversion to expanding their sound, which basically amounts to frontman Eddie Argos telling jokes in an excited sing-speak over fuzzy garage riffs. As Argos puts it in a song from the band’s new album, “Art Brut vs. Satan,” “Slapdash for no cash -- those are the records I like.”

Nevertheless, Art Brut hired Frank Black (Black Francis of the Pixies) to produce “Art Brut vs. Satan.” It’s a job Black appears to have performed by telling Argos and his bandmates to pick up right where they left off on 2007’s misleadingly titled “It’s a Bit Complicated.”

Argos pulls off a handful of good lines: You can’t deny the wit in “Alcoholics Unanimous,” while “What a Rush” examines the aftereffects of excess with knowing precision. (“I wish I hadn’t taken off all my clothes,” he admits, “Now I need them -- where did they go?”) Most of the riffs hit the pleasure centers they always have, as in “The Replacements,” where guitarists Jasper Future and Ian Catskilkin expertly channel that Minneapolis outfit’s boozy bonhomie.

Still, there’s no denying that, three albums in, the winning novelty of Art Brut’s tightly defined project is beginning to wear off.

--

Mikael Wood

--

Roth’s debut seems too sleepy

Asher Roth

“Asleep in the Bread Aisle”

Schoolboy/SRC/Universal Records

* * 1/2

In the 10 months since Asher Roth dropped his DJ Drama-helmed mix-tape, “The Greenhouse Effect,” the Morrisville, Pa.-raised rapper has managed to become a ubiquitous pop culture presence with the Weezer-riffing hit single, “I Love College,” and endorsements from Jay-Z and Andre 3000.

With the release of his official debut, “Asleep in the Bread Aisle,” on stoner holiday April 20 (4/20), though, the tallowy talent seems just that -- asleep, with a sedated flow perpetually one toke over the line. When Busta Rhymes (“Lion’s Roar”) and Beanie Sigel (“Perfectionist”) appear, they expose the freshman phenom as out of his weight class.

Roth’s attempts at introspection are sincere but shallow: an overwrought ode to his father’s midlife crisis (“His Dream),” a bloated, eco-political diatribe (“Sour Patch Kids”) and an attempt to repudiate Eminem comparisons (“As I Em,”) made futile by an eerie emulation of Eminem’s singular timbre and rhyme schemes.

The album isn’t completely charmless. “Lark on My Go-Kart,” the Cee-Lo aided “Be by Myself” and “I Love College” reveal a breezy affability. But far too often, Roth’s quest for relatability reeks of redundancy. “Asleep in the Bread Aisle” suggests a truth Roth might already have known: Staying in school was the smart move.

--

--Jeff Weiss