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Cave’s 13th studio album is actually a two-disc set, recorded with his usual Bad Seed suspects, except guitarist Blixa Bargeld. It’s an ambitious undertaking. The aptly titled Abattoir Blues is the darker of the two recordings, full of harrowing rock numbers like “Hiding All Away” and the ecological warning “There She Goes, My Beautiful World.” The theatrical Lyre of Orpheus is a soothing antidote, with fine spoken verse, gorgeous gospel voices and uplifting songs like “Carry Me” and the flute-filled “Breathless.”

On his debut album, Toronto’s 17-year-old Liam Titcomb writes and sings with surprising maturity and assurance. Songs like the upbeat “Sad Eyes” and the James Taylor-ish “Easy in My Sky” seem tailor-made for radio. But the memorable songs are more obviously autobiographical ones, including “My So Called Life,” which cites his mother and father, Canadian folk legend Brent Titcomb, and “Cover of 17,” which hints at the tension caused by parents who push for their child’s success a little too much.

One song, “Soft Revolution,” amounts to a manifesto: “We are here to save your life,” sings keyboardist Torquil Campbell, “chase the demons out of town.” There are worse ways to be rescued than being wrapped in the dreamy romantic pop of Montreal’s Stars. With the exquisite, breathy vocals of guitarist Amy Millan, the soaring “Ageless Beauty,” the string-laden “Celebration Guns” and the piano-laced “Calendar Girl” are gentle, pretty songs of hope that could certainly improve one’s day, if not better the world.

“Feminist punk electronic music” is how the band describes its sound. Led by Bikini Kill founder and riot grrrl Kathleen Hanna, Le Tigre tackles the Bush administration on stridently political tracks like “Seconds” and “New Kicks.” The group’s punk roots are reflected on “Punker Plus,” while its electronic side is on full display on the robotic “Tell You Now,” produced by Cars frontman Ric Ocasek. And, just to show it has a sense of humor, Le Tigre raps Beastie Boys-style on the equality rant “Nanny Nanny Boo Boo.”

The lads from Leeds, England featured joyful psychedelic anthems like “Take the Long Road and Walk It” on their debut album. Singer Robert Harvey and company have clearly looked up from their wool caps and realized there’s a world out there—and, yikes, it’s in turmoil. The band’s second release is darker and more ambitious, from the anti-war bluster of “Bleeding from Within” to the minor-key opus “Fight the Feeling.” The giddy rave-up “Breakin’” is the lone exception, offering a hint of relief from all the bleakness.

Although his name comes first in the billing, the Canadian jazz guitar genius plays second fiddle to singer-comedian Francks on this 1962 recording from Toronto’s Yorkville district. Unlike the fine Hallmark Sessions, which showcased Breau’s unique style (accompanied by Rick Danko and Levon Helm), this album keeps the Winnipeg legend in the background, with bassist Henstridge. Instead, Francks’ often irritating nightclub routines and even a display of tap dancing takes center stage. Shameful, really.

A thinly disguised portrait of Stoughton, Mass., where McKenna grew up and continues to live, the folky Bittertown captures the hopes, struggles and shattered dreams of working-class life. Like Bruce Springsteen in Darkness on the Edge of Town, she provides unflinching views of love (the tender “Pour,” in which a lover takes off with the rent) and loss (the stirring “Bible Song,” where a cousin dies leaving “40 bills and two kids to keep”). Throughout, McKenna’s bare, emotional vocals keep it all painfully real.

With 22-year-old firecracker Johnny Borrell leading the charge, Britain’s Razorlight is the latest challenger to the throne of American rockers the Strokes. Borrell has all the makings of an upstart young rock prince, including a reckless spirit, androgynous good looks and an excess of confidence—make that arrogance. But, with songs as good as the edgy “Rock and Roll Lies,” the U2-ish “Stumble and Fall” and the insanely catchy feel-good number “Golden Touch,” Borrell’s Razorlight might well deserve the crown.

Montreal has always been a bastion of hard rock, from Mahogany Rush and Aldo Nova to Sass Jordan. Jonas Tomalty has clearly been raised on such sounds. On his debut album, the 25-year-old singer delivers a raunchy swagger on songs by Stevie Nicks and Aerosmith’s Steve Tyler and Joe Perry. But he doesn’t pull it off. He’s more convincing on the straight-ahead blues of “Like a River” or an original ballad like “By the Bed.” Despite his arena-rock aspirations, Tomalty is better suited to barroom blues.

In the past, Toronto jazzman Bill King has shown a keen ear for spotting new talent, including saxophonist Jane Bunnett, guitarist Kevin Breit and pianist Tyler Yarema. King’s latest discovery is Sophie Milman, a 21-year-old singer whose silky, sultry voice could make her Canada’s answer to Norah Jones. Whether covering Gershwin, Billie Holiday standards, a Brazilian samba or a tune from her native Russia, Milman brings a refreshing vitality to the material on this debut produced by King and Danny Greenspoon.