Avigdor Zahner-Isenberg and crew finally follow up the precocious pop of 2010’s eponymous Avi Buffalo with a sophomore effort, having spent some time in the hallowed indie halls of John Vanderslice’s Tiny Telephone studio to craft a new batch of tunes.

While Brian De Palma’s Phantom of the Paradise is a mess, it’s an extremely interesting mess.

Robin Wright plays herself (and an animated version of herself) in The Congress, director Ari Folman’s trippy, half cartoon, half live-action mind-bender.

You may or may not know Richard Reed Parry as the lean, pointed gentleman who yelps things from behind a double bass in Arcade Fire. Travelling the globe with his orchestral-rock cohorts and whipping up stadium-sized audiences into a communal, riotous frenzy has been Parry’s bread-and-butter for 10 years now.

Perhaps Americans were long-past ready to move on from Vietnam by the beginning of 1975, but for those who remained behind, some of the most trying hours of the conflict were yet ahead.

Death to Interpol. Death to all neo-baritone-core. Death to The National. Death to Editors. If you really wanted to take a leaf out of Joy Division’s book, you all should’ve called it a day after two albums. It’s 2014, for God’s sake.

Gorgeously shot and carefully paced, Weir’s Hanging Rock has a dreamlike quality that sets it apart even among his fellow Australian New Wavers.

Opening to the sound of a gong on “I’m a Vampire,” this Glasgow trio settles in with a spare guitar/bass/drum vamp built to drive on singer/guitarist Dale Barclay, who sounds utterly, violently obsessed by his lyrical concerns.

Most of us presumed that Karen O could do quite well solo. Even without the heroic backing of her poppy neo-no-wave cohorts in Yeah Yeah Yeahs, she’s always been a figure unto herself with her magnetic stage presence and insouciant personality.