THE FIREMAN ****
Electric Arguments
ATO/Maplemusic
Many Beatles fans would be gobsmacked to hear that Paul McCartney and producer Youth have secretly dabbled in experimental electronica for years. Indeed, Sir Paul’s under-the-radar club instrumentals anticipated trend-chasing ‘90s missteps from U2 by half a decade. And on this, the  first  Fireman outing to feature vocals, Macca emerges from the electro-closet quite convincingly. Thankfully he’s not gone all Moby on us. Opener “Nothing Too Much Just Out Of Sight” boasts raunchy blues-rock à la Jon Spencer, while the sparse “Two Magpies” could be “Blackbird Part 2.” Meanwhile, “Travelling Light” — the disc’s high water mark — is a melancholy head-scratcher evoking Fairport Convention, Cocteau Twins and King Tubby (as if sung by Leonard Cohen with a Hawaiian guitar). The disc’s second half then motoriks off in Bowie/Eno fashion, ending in something akin to a Stone Roses B-side. Sure, Squarepusher fans will find the production more stock than avant-garde, but it’s fascinating nonetheless to get such a solid curveball at this point in McCartney’s game. CHRIS ROLFE

LUOMO ****
Convivial
Huume
The ultra-luxurious music that Finnish microhouse producer Sasu Ripatti makes under his Luomo brand gets memorably scuffed up on this captivating fourth outing. Having a greater variety of vocalists (including Robert Owens and the Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears) helps Ripatti expand on the template he set eight years ago with the Vocalcity EP. These voices become another element in the dense web of sound and rhythm, the polished veneer and slick house beats once again providing cover for Ripatti’s weirder, glitchier inclinations. The clashing aesthetics converge most dramatically on “Sleep Tonight,” the closest that Ripatti has let Luomo get to a state of collapse. JASON ANDERSON

MATTHEW DEAR ***
Body Language Vol. 7
Get Physical/Outside
The minimal backlash has been in the works for ages, but while Dear’s mix for Get Physical’s stalwart mix series has plenty of rubbery funk in its undertow (I:Cube’s “Gtnup,” will give your solar plexus a slap), it’s still daringly stripped down. Sadly, that’s where the similarities to his own productions end. Though this disc and his own work are rhythmically inventive, even Dear’s harshest originals have a playfulness that Vol. 7 lacks. Next time Dear should use more tracks like Seth Troxler & Patrick Russell’s “Doctor Of Romance” and his own “Free To Ask,” both of which sound laconic and percussive, but no less warm and alive for it. DAVE MORRIS

MAX TUNDRA ***
Parallax Errors BEHEADS You
Domino
It’s less frenetic than Girl Talk’s scattershot pop mash-ups, but at least Max Tundra’s hooky, fragmentary future funk has a comparably high bit rate. The Brit otherwise known as Ben Jacobs excels at sometimes irresistible, sometimes maddening songs that can’t decide if they’d rather be suave or twitchy. Though velocity addicts will twig to the choppy likes of “Orphaned,” more charming are the disc’s mellower moments, which resemble Gonzales’ Soft Power. Jacobs’ hazy, androgynous vocals add a winsomeness that recalls the best of Scritti Politti — “Which Song” could even be an outtake from Cupid & Psyche 85. To deploy another geezer reference, Jacobs’ flair for melodic overdrive (especially on the 11-minute closer “Until We Die”) and ability to navigate his own hairpin curves align him closer to Todd Rundgren circa Something/Anything? than to any of his laptop-toting contemporaries. Even so, he’d do well to stay under the speed limit more often. JA

EL GUINCHO ***
Alegranza!
Young Turks/XL
Spanish electronic musician Pablo Diaz-Reixa’s electronic collages are as frothy as cresting waves, but they’re mostly ripple — there’s precious little undertow here. Once he establishes one of his exuberant loops, usually based around a colourful sample, Diaz-Reixa tends to let it sit there until it becomes electrifying at best (the sprightly “Antillas”) and mildly irritating at worst (the grating “Polca Mazurca”). Alegranza! would be appropriate background music for a winter house party; it summons the atmosphere of the beach, but it’s generally unobtrusive enough that you might not even remember it’s on. Even if you were trying to. DM

EL GUINCHO AND LEMONADE PLAY THE EL MOCAMBO (464 SPADINA AV) NOV 27.
 
ASIAN DUB FOUNDATION ***
Punkara
naïve
This long-lived, politically minded English pop/dance act continue producing forward-thinking jams into the new millennium with this successful fusion of Bhangra vocals, occasional rapping and vaguely punk rock mindset. The lyrics are fairly introspective, with “Speed Of Light” providing a chilled-out, smart view on the agony of modern life, and the instrumentals really shine, particularly the spaghetti western vibes of “S.O.C.A.”. Even an unexpected appearance from Iggy Pop on a redo of “No Fun” works — Iggy is in great form and the fusion of the original into a South Asian format is ear-pleasing. The bouillabaise that is this collective can be a bit sonically overbearing, but their sound remains vibrant, likeable and challenging. NICK FLANAGAN

KIERAN HEBDEN/STEVE REID ***
NYC
Domino
The cross-generational nature of this duo may not be apparent until you glance at their resumés. Kieran Hebden (who handles “electronics”) a.k.a. Four Tet has toured with Radiohead, while drummer Steve Reid has played with James Brown, Fela Kuti, Miles Davis and the Sun Ra Arkestra, so it’s understandable that Reid takes the lead here. His drumming tends to pull each semi-improvised composition like an anchor, quickening his rhythms when Hebden’s looped guitar segments and organic arrangements of digital buzz begin to settle into sedateness. The New York City theme is superficial; each piece is tied to a specific location or time, but their crystalline, abstract forms reduce that to trivia (“1st & 1st,” where Reid shows off some African influences, is partially an exception). That said, it’d be one hell of a vacation soundtrack. CHRIS RANDLE

THE RAPTURE ***
!K7 Tapes
!K7
For all the indie-rockers who crossed over into clubland at the turn of this decade, The Rapture did their homework more studiously than most, hosting their own DJ nights at New York’s Plant Bar and turning over production duties for 2006’s Pieces of the People We Love to the likes of UK mixmaster Ewan Pearson and Danger Mouse. And if this well-considered (albeit too patiently paced) mixed-disc is any indication, these disco-punks are eager to lop off the latter part of that descriptor entirely. After setting the street-level scene with some tough-funk jabs from Ghostface Killah (“Daytona 500”) and The Bar-Kays (“Holy Ghost”), Tapes dives deep into New York’s early ‘80s disco/house halcyon days, airing out vintage hits (Vaughan Mason and Crew’s “Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll,” Northend’s “Tee’s Happy”) before introducing contemporary variations by Thomas Bangalter and Kiloo, and more abrasive cuts by Sweden’s Donk Boys and Brooklyn’s awesomely named Dances With White Girls. That it all climaxes with Richie Havens’ 1980 proto-house workout “Going Back to My Roots” makes for a fitting full-circle return to the mix’s old-school origins, and a clever nod to another former rocker who couldn’t resist the lure of the dancefloor. STUART BERMAN

LEMONADE *****
True Panther
The release of this San Francisco trio’s self-titled debut could not be better timed: for those who’ve been riding out the past eight years of Bush/Cheney misery in a cave and are now ready to join the post-Obama party, Lemonade provide an exhilarating crash course in just about every dance-music movement of the 2000s. These six ultra-dense, ceaselessly throbbing tracks pile on everything from DFA-brand cowbell-laden punk-funk to filter-freaked electro-house, schaffel-techno swing to shantytown grime. Callan Clendenin’s echo-effected vocals mutate alongside the rhythms — where he initially favours an indecipherably paranoid John Lydon-style babble, by the end of the appropriately named big-beat knockout “Bliss Out,” he’s ready to belt it out with Bono at the top of the highest mountain. SB

LEMONADE OPEN FOR EL GUINCHO NOV 27 AT THE EL MOCAMBO (464 SPADINA AV).

GOOD CHARLOTTE *
The Greatest Remixes
Sony
The Greatest Remixes consists of reanimated hits and remixes of Good Charlotte’s subverted-macho punk-pop angst anthems. But despite all the new beats and raps, Joel Madden still sings like a teenager stuck in the body of a man pushing 30, and his tales of jock anxiety and quasi-adolescent rage still clamber to the forefront of the mix. Bubba Sparxxx and Jung Tru’s rhymes on “Keep Your Hands Off My Girl” and Million $ Mano’s pulsing remix of “The Anthem” do offer some welcome moments of relief, but for most of this compilation Good Charlotte’s juvenile shtick sadly prevails. CHRISTIAN MARTIUS

DEADBEAT ***
Roots And Wire
Wagon Repair
Having constructed a massive, lethargic sound produced by the tectonic shifts of syncopated digital delays, Scott Monteith a.k.a. Deadbeat started raising his music’s beats-per-minute on his last disc, Journeyman’s Annual. Now that he’s left fellow electronica artist Pole’s ~scape label, a natural home for his chilly dub tableaux, Deadbeat has dropped his warmest sounding record to date. Roots And Wire’s big, whomping beats recall ye olde tribal house of Armand Van Helden, but despite the lingering delays, these kinds of beats need more personality to be truly memorable. The way of the future may be “Grounation” which reconciles main-room energy with technofied calypso-via-dancehall echoes. More Paul St. Hilaire vox, please....
DAVID DACKS

COSMIC BALEARIC BEATS VOL. 1 ***
Eskimo
It’s not surprising that, given the amount of beardy disco that comes out on Eskimo, the label’s take on the re-emergence of the hazy, psychedelic Balearic sound (once popular at the beginning of the rave era) is brimming with dusty drum loops and more cascading synthesizers than a mid-’90s trance compilation. Under the light touch of Skinny Joey’s mixing hand, this comp breezes through a fairly wide variety of laid-back Ibiza-ready gems, from Coyote’s boggle-eyed stoner anthem “Grow Your Hair” to Rubber Room’s funky guitar/clavinet workout “Cockroach,” and while it’s likely too slow to dance to, neither do the selctions fall into the indulgence of pure ambient music. The mix meanders in spots, but what else would you expect such blatantly substance-oriented music to do? DM

LADYHAWKE ***
Island
New Zealander and ex–Two Lane Blacktop member turned electro pop-tart Pip Brown follows up her string of singles with her debut album under the moniker Ladyhawke (not to be confused with the Vancouver rockers). The self-titled album opens with what sounds like a medicated version of Bloodhound Gang, entitled “Magic,” and then quickly picks up as the plinky electronics and live drums on “Manipulating Woman” make for a pleasing groove. The “Cars”-esque riffing of Ladyhawke’s popular single “Paris is Burning” can still shake up a dance floor, but sappy closer “Morning Dreams” would surely clear it. Ladyhawke comes across as eager and misguided, as substantial as a soap bubble — in other words, electro-pop perfection. CHRIS BILTON