A BAND OF BEES
Free the Bees
(Astralwerks)
★★★★

In the summers of 1968–'70, Britain's Isle of Wight hosted a trio of weekend-long outdoor music festivals, featuring performers ranging from the eccentric (a pre-makeover Tyrannosaurus Rex, Tiny Tim, the Crazy World of Arthur Brown) to the iconic (the Who, Bob Dylan, and, in his last public appearance, Jimi Hendrix). Clearly, the convergence of this much diverse talent, plus thousands of ecstatic suppliants nourished by lager and psychedelics, in such concentrated episodes, permanently altered the cosmic fabric of this tiny outpost. Because 30-odd years later, the Isle of Wight has spawned A Band of Bees and their stunning, variegated sophomore album, Free the Bees.

While other, richer British bands have settled for blatantly appropriating riffs and fashions from their swinging '60s predecessors, the Bees delve deeper, delivering a dozen originals that rekindle the heady heyday of the Beatles and early Pink Floyd, yet without sounding flat-out derivative. The goofy "Go Karts" see-saws along in a jumble-shop rhythm, bolstered by Paul Butler's guitar leads and generous lashings of Hammond organ; "No Atmosphere" shuffles and stomps like a drunken jug band, complete with wild piano solo and sudden dynamic shifts that highlight vocal harmonies. The record's centerpiece doubles as its pinnacle, a one-two-three combination of a bona fide soul dance craze ("Chicken Payback") featuring barnyard animal noises, an extended, burbling reggae instrumental ("The Russian"), and a summery soul ballad ("I Love You") worthy of Dusty Springfield or Marvin Gaye. Wow. Free the Bees and your mind will follow. KURT B. REIGHLEY

THE SECRET MACHINES
The Road Leads Where It's Led EP
(Reprise Records)
★★★1/2

Buried beneath seven minutes of overdriven e-bow and languishing drums lies an old Motown records hit. "The best things in life are free," murmurs singer Brandon Curtis. "But you can give 'em to the birds and the bees." What the hell, you hand the Secret Machines a chipper Smokey Robinson gem and they play it like Low on downers? Apparently. Stretching classics out or cozying up to already protracted numbers seems to be their MO on the interim covers set The Road Leads Where It's Led. And for what it's worth, the trick is fantastic, working infinitely better than the Dallas threesome's proper work. That's not to disparage the Machines; last year's Now Here Is Nowhere was a respectable record, albeit one that predictably played along with the ceaseless indie-retro trend. The Road, on the other hand, sees them in genuine exploratory mode, once you get beyond its title track (originally from Now Here) and the wishy-washy new "Bring Your Friends." A driven take on Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks" seems ridiculous at six minutes, but it's actually a minute shorter than the original—a byproduct of replacing tempered acoustic jazz with voluminous squalor and reverb. The Machines effectively recreate the pulsing Krautrock of Harmonia on "(De Luxe) Immer Wieder," but the EP's best moment is easily its longest. Sampled gusts of spectral wind conjure images of rolling, snow-covered hills on the nine-minute version of Bob Dylan's "Girl From the North Country," initially coming off like Spacemen 3. But as the song peaks into ringing piano and swirling sound, it reaches about as close to symphonic as a trio can come. JOHN VETTESE

The Secret Machines perform Sat July 16 at the Moore Theater, 8pm, $25.

BILLY CORGAN
The Future Embrace
(Warner Bros./Reprise)
★★★

"It's like 'Sprockets'!" aging Billy Corgan fan number one said to aging Corgan fan number two, as the former Smashing Pumpkin took the stage in New York City recently, complete with a black watch cap and knee-high combat boots. This exchange essentially (or ridiculously) distills The Future Embrace's appeal: It will inevitably make sense to people who have no use for subtlety. It is his "electro-pop" album just as much as Zwan was his "triumphant return to rock," but the irony tucked within this brilliant first solo disc is that its rewards are more like secrets, hidden beyond the warm synths and hazy guitars on lead single "Walking Shade" and revealed deep in the digital groove of a thinker like "A100." For the past decade, it's been difficult to substantiate exactly why Corgan's fans continue to revere him (other than for his blog and the fact that he exists as Billy Corgan), but here he's smiling and content, knowing too well that the rest of the world may continue to ignore him. TREVOR KELLEY

Billy Corgan performs Mon July 18 at the Moore Theater, 8 pm, $33.50 plus fees.

WOLF PARADE
Wolf Parade EP
(Sub Pop)
★★★

Wolf Eyes, Guitarwolf, We Are Wolves, Superwolf, Fuck Wolf, Wolf Kings, AIDS Wolf, Weed Wolf, Howlin' Wolf—enough with the wolf names, already. Dang, next thing you know, Paris Hilton will be sporting a designer metallic diaper, laptopping and lapdancing in front of an all-heiress electro-noise band named Heroin Wolf. Forget your swallows, deer, and Lion Kings—running with wolves is so very in, in, in. So what's all the howling about? Chalk it up to the inherent Everlasting Gobstopper cool of the animal in general and the predatory nature of life in the '00s.

Montreal lupine pack Wolf Parade aren't quite as blood-thirsty or fearsome as many of the other Wolf groups—perhaps their Modest Mouse mentor (and coproducer on this self-titled EP), Isaac Brock, partially tamed them when he brought them in from the cold and put them on tour. Wolf Parade is full of the feisty, jagged pop that should satisfy the hankerings of Interpol, We Ragazzi, and Radio 4 fans, with some of that sincere, symphonic force of fellow Canadian artys and onetime tourmates Arcade Fire. It's meaty and dense with ex–Frog Eyes beastie Spencer King's buzzing keyboard textures, guitarist Dan Boeckner and drummer Arlen Thompson's pointy rhythmic edges, and Boeckner and Krug's nervous, nervy vocals. Wolf it down—seconds are coming up soon, in late September when their full-length trots forth. KIMBERLY CHUN

Wolf Parade perform Thurs July 14 at the War Room, 9 pm, $5.

★★★★ Aunt Roach
★★★ Aunt Jemima
★★ Aunt Bea
★ Antacid