Hooray, the good stuff is finally coming out. Let’s not waste any more time and get right down to it.

You can often judge a year by how long it takes for the first great album to hit stores. It’s not a foolproof method, I’ll grant you, but consider this: the first two months of the year are generally a cultural wasteland. Lousy movies, TV shows slowly trickling back onto our screens, and albums shunted off into that limbo between Christmas and spring. Some years, it takes until April for a really great album to make its presence known. If the good stuff starts coming out early, that’s usually a sign that there’s much more goodness to come.

I’m starting to have high hopes for 2013. We’re not even out of January and we already have the year’s first great record. I’m talking about Wolf’s Law, the sophomore album from Welsh trio The Joy Formidable, one of the most striking bands to hit these shores in years. A stranger and more intricate effort, Wolf’s Law isn’t getting quite the same amount of love from critics as their blood rush of a debut, The Big Roar. But I think this record outdoes the first one in a lot of important ways, playing to the band’s ambition while maintaining their edge.

The Joy Formidable is loud. For three people, they make a convincing riff-rock racket, locking into a fuzzy, constantly-moving groove on most of these songs. Their sound on record has a decidedly ‘90s sheen – I once said they sound like Siamese Dream-era Smashing Pumpkins might have, if Billy Corgan had let D’Arcy sing. Wolf’s Law builds on that foundation, adding strings and keys and harps. But if you’re worried that the increased studiocraft might dull their bite, listen to “Cholla,” the rough, explosive first single. Ritzy Bryan has a sweet, melodic voice, but she shreds on guitar, and the song’s tumbling riff will smack you bloody.

While the band has been careful to keep the thick guitar-rock sound at the core of this album, Wolf’s Law is a far more textured work. It’s Rhydian Dafydd’s bass that anchors the brief, awesome “Little Blimp,” and the tender “Silent Treatment” sticks to delicate acoustic guitar throughout. Perhaps the biggest surprise is the amazing “Maw Maw Song,” which begins and ends with plucked harps, and in between drops the biggest, most Zeppelin riff of the album. The verses speed along on what sounds like synth bass, colliding with that riff on the choruses, and making room for a two-minute arpeggiated guitar solo. The song is, hands down, the most fascinating thing here.

But the Joy Formidable is just as great when they tackle the shorter, more volatile tunes. Strings augment the likes of “Forest Serenade” and the infectious opener, “This Ladder is Ours,” but you won’t really care that they’re there – these songs are all about Bryan’s guitar, and Matt Thomas’ thunderous drums. The songs are all sharply written, even though it’s hard to tell what they’re about. “The Leopard and the Lung,” for instance, was reportedly inspired by activist Wangari Maathai, but it’s much more broad and enigmatic in its sentiments: “Hate, it’s going to overrun this town, as soon as the moon goes to nothing, wait, they’re always going to run you down, it’s better to face my something.”

Those who decried The Big Roar for eschewing a live sound in favor of studio bigness will probably have the same complaints about this album, if not more so. The album closes with a pair of sweeping mid-tempo pieces, the soaring “The Turnaround” and the piano-based title song, included as a hidden track. They don’t rock, but they are terrific. Wolf’s Law is the sound of the Joy Formidable kicking against their own idea, not content to just be a rock band. They are that, certainly, and much of Wolf’s Law rocks like thunder, but this album proves they’re aiming higher.

It remains to be seen if they can get higher than this. Wolf’s Law is a decidedly strange album – just listen to “Bats” – but a terrific one, and it showcases an ambitious band doing it right. They came in with a big roar, but the best moments of this album prove they can do more than shout. Wolf’s Law is the first great album of 2013, and I can’t wait to hear what this band does next.

* * * * *

If the young’uns know David Lowery at all these days, it’s probably for his extraordinary open letter to NPR intern Emily White last year, excoriating her for stealing music online. It was a cranky yet well-reasoned argument, and for a while, Lowery was at the center of the debate, his thoughts becoming a rallying point for musicians tired of seeing their profits shrink. The controversy returned Lowery to the headlines after a long absence, and I wondered how many people reading that letter were hearing his name for the first time.

To be fair, it had been a while since Lowery had done anything worth hearing. His solo effort from 2011, The Palace Guards, was fair to middling, and Cracker’s last few efforts have been… well, they’ve been Cracker albums. Though Cracker is his most famous band, Lowery’s legacy will always be tied to the great Camper Van Beethoven, a band he co-founded in 1983. They have one of the greatest band names in history, and a discography that jumps wildly from the silly to the sublime. If you’re new to Lowery, you need to start with Camper.

And if you want a good jumping on point, I’m pleased to report that the brand new CVB album, La Costa Perdida, is surprisingly excellent. Reportedly inspired by their California roots – the title translates to The Lost Coast – this album is everything the last CVB record, the overheated New Roman Times, wasn’t. It’s the most straight-faced album they’ve made, in any of their incarnations, but there’s a playfulness to it, a sense of freedom and joy that had been missing.

Opener “Come Down the Coast” has rocketed near the top of my list of favorite Lowery songs, in a very short time. It’s a peaceful, swaying number, buoyed by Jonathan Segel’s mandolin and some lovely backing vocals. (There’s a strong Beach Boys influence on much of this record.) The band effectively tackles the blues on “You Got to Roll,” and stretches its surf-rock wings on “Too High for the Love-In.” That one ends with Lowery repeating, “Bring to me the anti-venom, and make me a sandwich.” Just in case you thought they might be taking themselves too seriously.

“Peaches in the Summertime” is just fun, its reggae-punk beat finding room for Segel’s violin. (That instrument gets quite a workout on this album, actually.) First single “Northern California Girls” is here in all its seven-minute strummy glory, Lowery’s shimmery accents lifting what is a pretty simple tune. The title song is a galloping, down-home, skipping country-reggae delight, and closer “A Love For All Time” is decidedly wistful and nostalgic.

It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a Camper Van Beethoven album this much. If you were turned off by the odd, dense rock opera they turned in last time, it’s safe to come on back. And if you’ve never heard CVB before, you could do worse than starting here. (But definitely get the older ones too.) La Costa Perdida may not be instant-classic David Lowery, but it’s closer than I expected we’d ever get again. He may be more famous these days for railing against illegal downloading, but with this album, he’s made perhaps his strongest case for buying and supporting the work of musicians. If Lowery still has music like this in him, I want him to be able to make more of it, and ensuring that is worth my ten bucks.

* * * * *

I vowed at the start of the year to try out more unfamiliar bands and artists. The first one I took a gamble on this year was Mountains, and it certainly paid off.

Mountains is a duo from New York by way of Chicago, and their fifth album is called Centralia. I’d never heard a note of their work before plunking down my money for this, but the descriptions I’d read – promising slowly-unfolding worlds of sound – made it an enticing prospect. Centralia is an entirely drum-less work, almost a drone album, but its textures and attention to detail offer a widescreen experience I haven’t heard from similar artists.

Opening track “Sand,” for instance, plays with shimmering keys over a constant one-note bed, but when the cellos come in at the nine-minute mark, it’s almost revelatory. Second song “Identical Ship” is built on an acoustic guitar whisper, atmospheric synths swirling around it. Throughout this long album, the two masterminds (Brendon Anderegg and Koen Holtkamp) set up contrasts between stillness and movement, amplifying the former to such a degree that any instance of the latter is monumental. The rotating bass line that snakes beneath “Circular C,” for instance, would be lost in any other context, but is captivating here.

Centralia also plays with contrasts between the electronic and the organic. Much of this album was performed live, and pianos and guitars sit nicely beside the wavery, watery keyboards that were added later. The result is surprisingly emotional music – the main acoustic melody of “Tilt” that starts about two minutes in sounds limitless in its joy, and the dark and droning keys that surround it only add to that sensation. The centerpiece of this album is the 20-minute “Propeller,” and it shifts and moves through electronic and organic sections with ease. The buzzsaw guitar noise that springs forth from “Liana” is initially jarring, but ends up fitting in perfectly.

I’ve never heard anything quite like Centralia, but I’m eager to hear more. This record has a warmth and a soul missing from a lot of electro-ambient efforts, and a real, human beauty winds its way through these seven tracks. It’s an entrancing, lovely album, one that requires attention and patience to fully absorb. I’m glad to give it both, and I’ll be seeking out this band’s earlier works, while awaiting future ones with great anticipation.

* * * * *

Pretty great start to the year, no?

Before signing off, I wanted to mention Jonathan Coulton. I don’t have a lot to say about his situation with Glee, as it seems cut and dried to me – the show stole Coulton’s 2005 arrangement of “Baby Got Back,” and offered him no credit or acknowledgement. This isn’t the first time that Glee’s producers have done this, either – Greg Laswell, for instance, created the slow, mourning version of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” that the show also ripped off. Fox is apparently within its legal rights, but morally, it’s a real dick move, particularly for the makers of a show about the triumph of the little guy.

Coulton’s response, however, has been magnificent, and I wanted to highlight it. This weekend, he re-released his version of “Baby Got Back,” which of course sounds identical to the one aired on Glee. He has cheekily subtitled it “In the Style of Glee,” and he promises to give all his proceeds for the track through the end of February to charity. Specifically, the VH1 Save the Music Foundation and the It Gets Better Project. So all the money he gets from this firestorm of publicity will go to further music education and help LGBT kids accept themselves.

That might be the classiest thing I’ve seen in some time. Coulton is still investigating the possibility that Fox used his actual recorded backing track for their “Baby Got Back,” and if they did, expect a lawsuit. (And a bunch of clever headlines.) But this move, supporting causes that should be close to Glee fans’ hearts, just proves that Coulton is a guy worth knowing, and worth following. You should buy his “Baby Got Back,” because it’s funny, but you should also hear his plethora of smart, charming original material. It’s what won him the legion of fans you’ve seen leaping to his defense over the past week.

While I appreciate Coulton’s graceful reaction to this mess, I secretly hope he has a legal claim here. That’s probably the only thing that will stop Fox from doing this sort of thing again. Keep up with the latest at Jonathan’s site.

Next week, an avalanche of new stuff, including Eels, Frightened Rabbit, Tegan and Sara and Local Natives. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Twitter @tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I was all set to review the new Joy Formidable album, Wolf’s Law, this week. The Joy Formidable is one of my favorite new bands, and their sterling debut, The Big Roar, still gets a lot of play at Casa de Salles. I’ve been anticipating this new one for a while, and looking forward to reviewing what will turn out to be the year’s first major release.

There’s just one problem. I still haven’t heard Wolf’s Law. Nor have I heard either of my backup plan records, Camper Van Beethoven’s La Costa Perdida or Bad Religion’s True North. The story’s too long and convoluted to go into here, but suffice it to say that I had not received my copies of these albums in time to make this week’s deadline. (That’s right, in 2013, we’re taking the word “deadline” seriously.)

So here we are, talking about 2012 releases again. In a very real way, it feels like we’re still warming up, like the year hasn’t quite started yet. Next week, though. Next week, full steam ahead.

* * * * *

I was a sophomore in college when Green Day’s Dookie blew up the airwaves.

I worked at our college radio station, and was forced to play “When I Come Around” and “Basket Case” and “Longview” more times than I care to remember. I thought the album was terrible. Three-chord pop-punk with whiny lyrics and no imagination. Rinse, repeat for an entire record. I expected this bratty trio to go away pretty quickly, and when their second major-label album, Insomniac, fizzled out, I felt vindicated. (Well, spiteful and mean. But also vindicated.)

But man, they showed me. Over the next 14 years, they evolved, until finally delivering their twin towering achievements, American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown. I still can’t bring myself to love Idiot, though I do give it oceans of credit for ambition and scope. Breakdown, on the other hand, was the one, the album they’d been striving for. A 70-minute rock opera in three acts, Breakdown found the band exploring new territory, and claiming it all. I was actually impressed enough that I included the record on my 2009 top 10 list.

And I was foolish enough to be excited when the band announced their next project: a trilogy of albums, each in a different style. I foresaw two possible outcomes: either these three albums would be a triumph, the next logical step in Green Day’s evolution away from the simplistic punk band they once were, or they would be a Sandinista-style mess, signaling the moment the band’s ambitions got away from them. I quite like Sandinista, so I was thrilled about either prospect.

I didn’t anticipate what actually happened, though: Green Day decided to sleepwalk their way through more than two hours of boring, insipid “rawk” in a misguided attempt to recapture their Dookie glory days. Now that all three installments of this trilogy (Uno, Dos and Tre) are out, the full shape of the problem is clear – the band focused on quantity instead of quality, and purposely wrote material reminiscent of their earlier days. Both of these things were terrible, terrible mistakes, and the end result is an exhausting set that feels like the work of a band running low on ideas.

On their own, these albums never rise above mediocre, but at least they’re over quickly. Uno is the glossy pop record, the songs that would have been hits in 1994. The tone never changes, but the quality varies, from the obvious yet catchy “Stay the Night” to the idiotic “Kill the DJ” to the endless “Oh Love.” Dos is intended as the garage-rock album, which means it’s dirtier (musically and lyrically), but still sounds like old Green Day. If you’re OK with a bunch of 40-year-old men writing songs like “Fuck Time” and “Makeout Party,” you may not hate this. I liked the final song, the sorta-touching “Amy,” but it’s more than balanced out by the hideous slinky-rap experiment “Nightlife.” The less said about that, the better.

And now here is Tre, wittily named after drummer Tre Cool, to close things out with a whimper. Billie Joe Armstrong described this one as the “epic” installment, but aside from a couple songs, I’m not sure what he’s talking about. Most of Tre sounds like Uno played slower – the same chords, the same kinds of songs, just drawn out for the stadium crowd. It offers nothing this band hasn’t done better elsewhere, and because it fails to forge that “epic” identity, it flails around in search of anything to connect these 12 songs. (Hint: there isn’t anything.)

But for the first time in this three-album undertaking, Green Day does deliver a few tracks I like, so let’s focus on those. The best of the bunch is “Dirty Rotten Bastards,” something of a miniature version of “Jesus of Suburbia.” Over its six and a half minutes, it shifts from one anthemic riff to another, threatening to collapse in on itself at any moment, and yet somehow pulling it off. There’s more interesting stuff here than on all of Dos. Opener “Brutal Love” is pretty good, too, with its ‘50s pop arpeggios and strings. I will also admit to a soft spot for “The Forgotten,” the treacle-spattered piano ballad that closes things out, but I may like it just because it isn’t based on pounding-eighth-note guitars. (I just listened again. It’s much worse in isolation.)

I also kind of like “8th Avenue Serenade,” with its tricky beat and wordless falsetto hook. But that’s it. The rest of Tre is just as mindless, repetitive and boring as Uno and Dos. There’s nothing here as embarrassing as “Kill the DJ” or “Nightlife,” but if this is their grown-up record, it just sounds lifeless and tired. Just listen to “Sex, Drugs and Violence.” You’ve heard that riff a million times, and at least half a million times just from this band. Even something like “99 Revolutions” doesn’t sound like it would get anyone out of bed, never mind out to the battle lines.

Tre is merely the final act in a bland and thoroughly disappointing three-act show. If you listen to this trilogy in order, you’ll hear a band grasping for direction. When they’re not going through the motions, they sound confused and uncertain. After the sheer confidence of 21st Century Breakdown, this was the last thing I expected. I’m not sure where Green Day goes from here. More distressingly, I’m not sure they have any idea either.

* * * * *

And now, a quick look ahead. The schedule for 2013 is starting to shape up, and while there aren’t any potential slam dunks on the horizon, there are some potentially solid records headed our way.

Next week, Tegan and Sara return with Heartthrob, the follow-up to 2009’s terrific Sainthood. What I’ve heard has been excellent. Local Natives deliver their second album, Hummingbird – their first, Gorilla Manor, is an underrated gem. We’ll also get the second Fiction Family album, charmingly titled Fiction Family Reunion, and a new one from Mike Patton’s band Tomahawk.

February 5 is the first huge release week of the year, with new ones from the Eels (Wonderful, Glorious), Frightened Rabbit (Pedestrian Verse), Jim James of My Morning Jacket (the preposterously named Regions of Light and Sound of God), Richard Thompson (Electric), Bjork (remix album Bastards), Coheed and Cambria (finishing up their The Afterman epic with Descension) and Harry Connick Jr. (Smoky Mary). After that, Feb. 12 will only bring us one, but since it’s the third Foals album, Holy Fire, I’m not complaining.

Mark Kozelek’s new thing Like Rats will hit on Feb. 19, and we get new ones from Steven Wilson (with the incredible title The Raven That Refused to Sing and Other Stories), Johnny Marr (The Messenger), Thom Yorke’s other band Atoms for Peace (Amok), KMFDM (Kunst, which is German for art), and a reunion album from the Mavericks. If you ever wondered what Roy Orbison might sound like if he moved to Nashville, you should check out the Mavericks.

A new Cloud Cult album, Love, leads off March 5, with They Might Be Giants (Nanobots), Trent Reznor’s How to Destroy Angels (Welcome Oblivion) and a double album from Autechre (Exai) right behind. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about that new David Bowie, The Next Day, and that comes out on March 12. The rest of March is filled out with records from Low, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Billy Bragg and Anthrax.

And then April will see new things from Telekinesis, Dawes, the Knife, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Frank Turner, Young Galaxy and (incredibly) another new Guided by Voices album. I haven’t even gotten around to reviewing the three they put out last year. So yeah, no anticipated home runs, but some solid stuff coming down the pike. I’ll probably split reviewing duties between the column and the blog, so keep up with both to read every last bit of my babbling.

Next week, the Joy Formidable? Maybe? We shall see. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Twitter @tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but the Tuesday Morning 3 A.M. Media Empire is back up and running.

Right now, you can head to Facebook and like my new page. It’s been up for a week, and already about 150 of you have clicked that like button, for which I am very grateful. You can also head to Twitter – it’s safe to start following me again. I’ve been tweeting every day, sometimes about music, sometimes about other art forms, sometimes about whatever crosses my mind.

And you can check out my blog. When I started this thing three years ago, it was intended as a supplemental outlet for all the music news and reviews I don’t have the space and time to post here. That’s how I’ve been using it since reigniting it a week ago, but probably the most significant thing you can read there is my Frank Zappa Buyer’s Guide. Yes, I’ve really started writing this thing. I plan to update it weekly with chronological reviews of all 90-some Zappa records, which should take me about two years. But I’ve been writing this here column for 12 years, so that seems like a pretty reasonable goal.

So yeah, more of my babbling awaits you behind each of those links. Hopefully I can keep up this pace, and hopefully it’ll all be worth your while. Thanks for clicking, following and reading.

* * * * *

So here it is, only the second column of the year, and already I’m bringing up Kickstarter.

Apologies if you’re sick of hearing about my love affair with the site, and what a genuine gift it is to those of us who love off-the-beaten-path music. Google tells me I mentioned Kickstarter in 12 columns last year, which is definitely a lot. But given that the Kickstarter model is the future of independent music writ large, I feel like I’m going to be singing its praises even more in the coming years. I mentioned this before, but four of my top 10 albums of last year were funded through fan pledges, and I expect that figure will only grow.

So, what has Kickstarter done to earn my adoration this time? It’s given the Brothers Martin the means to keep on making music. And that is a very fine thing indeed.

Longtime readers will know who I’m talking about. Jason and Ronnie Martin are brothers from southern California. For nearly 20 years, each Martin brother has headed his own project – Jason fronts Starflyer 59, while Ronnie toils away under the name Joy Electric. Jason plays deep, groovy guitar pop, soaked in reverb and full of emotion, while Ronnie creates shivery pop symphonies using nothing but analog synthesizers. What unites them is a tremendous sense of melody, a way with deceptively complex arrangements and a knack for glorious hooks.

Oh, and one other thing: since 1994, both Starflyer 59 and Joy Electric have been on Tooth and Nail Records, an arrangement that came to an end in 2011. Sales had been pretty low for both bands for a while, and Jason and Ronnie must have known they were living on borrowed time. Tooth and Nail released a dozen albums from both bands, plus numerous EPs and a box set for each. I’m grateful for the support the Martins received for so long – without Tooth and Nail, I never would have heard of either one of them, and they likely wouldn’t have been able to build up the audience necessary to take their next steps.

In what must have been a fun family discussion, the Martins both decided to turn to Kickstarter to pay for their next projects. As you probably know, Kickstarter asks artists to set a fundraising goal, and a time limit. If they meet that goal within the allotted time, they get the cash. If not, they get nothing. And if they go over their goal, they get to keep the extra as well.

I’m betting it was probably a surprise to Jason and Ronnie – two very humble guys – but they both blew their goals out of the water. Jason asked for $10,000 to make a new Starflyer record. He got $24,301. Ronnie asked for $6,000 to finance his new one, and received $12,701. I was overjoyed to see how well both projects made out – this was their fans thanking them for two decades of idiosyncratic, splendid music, and announcing without a doubt that their audience is still here, and still wants more. That must be a great feeling.

At the end of last year, within weeks of each other, Jason and Ronnie released their fan-funded projects. Ronnie chose to put out Dwarf Mountain Alphabet (love that title) on CD, housing it in a simple, elegant, single-color package. The austere artwork belies the fact that this is one of the most surprising stylistic leaps in Joy Electric’s long career. While previous Joy E records felt constructed, built up brick by brick according to some dense blueprint, this one is minimalist, bouncy, zippy fun. It’s almost – dare I say it? – dance music.

For this record, Ronnie pulled out the polyphonic synths for the first time in ages, meaning we get oodles of big, fat chords. The songs are built around four-on-the-floor beats, pulsing bass burbles, and only one or two synthesizer lines. There’s so much space in these songs you could walk through them, but the airy quality adds a lightness that’s been missing from Joy E for a while. Dwarf Mountain opens with an instrumental, the very ‘80s “And This No More,” and there ain’t much to it aside from those wonderful, warm chords, but it’s a delight.

Ronnie’s shaky voice remains his weak link, particularly when he stretches himself on the first single, “Whose Voice Will Not Be Heard.” It’s never been a fatal flaw, however, and the glittering, immersive music more than makes up for it. Check out “Stark Obscurity,” my favorite thing here. It crashes to life with a very Michael Jackson beat and bass line, before the Blade Runner synths come in, and it builds up and up, matching menace with catchiness, and culminating in a wonderfully old-school keyboard solo. By the end of this song, Ronnie will have sold you on his new sound.

As always, though, it’s his songs that rule the day. The 10 tracks on Dwarf Mountain are as well-crafted as ever, from the infectious “Let the Past Go,” to the Yaz-tastic “Further Into Light,” to the melancholy closer “Notes From a Chapter.” “Sing Once for Me” is a remake of a song from 2001’s The White Songbook, and it illustrates the leap Ronnie’s made here – the original was a puzzle box of interlocking moving parts, while this new one is so feather-light it’s almost effervescent.

I have no idea if this style shift is permanent, or just another Joy Electric experiment in a long line of them. I do know that Dwarf Mountain Alphabet is one of Ronnie Martin’s most fun records, and if he wants to keep making these, I’ll keep paying for them. Joy E is a singular experience even when Ronnie isn’t flipping his own script, as he has here. Check out the whole new album here, and buy it here.

Jason Martin, meanwhile, has given the first independent Starflyer 59 album a much cheekier title: IAMACEO. He’s decided to forego CDs for the first time, and put this one out on vinyl and download. So for perhaps the third or fourth time in my life, I paid for music without packaging. There are only a few artists I’d do that for, and Jason Martin is one of them. And he didn’t let me down.

Starflyer fans are used to Jason’s stylistic leapfrogging – everything he’s done sounds like Starflyer, but over 13 records he’s moved from molasses-thick guitar noise to skipping Cure-esque pop to stripped-down stomp-rock. 2010’s The Changing of the Guard found him embracing acoustic guitars, with lovely clean electric flourishes, and IAMACEO expands on that palette. But this isn’t strummy folk melancholy – this is dark acoustic pop, with thundering drums and propulsive bass. And when Martin cranks up the electrics, as he does near the end of the opening title track, it’s loud and proud.

Jason’s low, penetrating voice is in fine form, and his songs here are just awesome. “Bicycle Rider” sounds like the greatest tune Echo and the Bunnymen never wrote, while single “Open Hands” rides in on a tidal wave of guitars, dissipating during the verses only to come crashing back in during the forceful choruses. “No one gives you nothing without open hands,” Martin sings, hitting his record’s bleakest moment. The darkness continues with the dusty piano lullaby “Father John,” one of Jason’s most epic creations. This one’s about moving on when everything falls apart.

And as Martin walks through the simpler, yet no less terrific songs on his record’s second side, it becomes clear that’s what he and his brother have done. They’ve dusted themselves off, picked up the pieces, asked their friends for help, and carried on making the best music they know how to make. IAMACEO is a classic – it’s the obvious next Starflyer album, but it’s also 10 more testaments to Jason Martin’s undeniable skill as a songwriter and record maker. I’m glad and grateful to have it. Listen to “Open Hands” and buy the record here.

Hearing both of these great albums back to back, I’m left with two thoughts. First, Kickstarter is amazing. And second, I hope the Brothers Martin continue making music like this for decades to come. The next chapter of their careers is off to a superb start.

* * * * *

One slightly sad note before I go. The Click Five, one of my favorite power pop bands in recent years, announced their breakup on Monday. They leave behind three albums of increasing quality, culminating in TCV, last year’s unjustly ignored gem. They were one of those guilty pleasure bands that I never, not once, not for a second, felt guilty for liking. I wish more people had paid attention, but as they once sang, that’s just the way that it goes. Take one last listen to this fantastic tune, and bid the Click Five adieu.

Next week, The Joy Formidable delivers the first big album of the year. I may get to Camper Van Beethoven’s reunion too. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow me on Twitter @tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.

Well, hello there. How have you been? Oh, me? New year, same cough.

I’ve basically been sick since the last time we spoke. Coughing, sneezing, sniffling, stuffy head, very little rest, despite the medicine and the days I’ve spent in bed. I’m on week four of this disease now, and it’s simply not going away. I’d feel worse about it if virtually everyone I know weren’t also sick. I spoke to a woman the other day at work – she’s been coughing for six weeks. Six. Weeks.

But enough about me, he said, sneezing into his arm. Let’s talk about 2013, the glorious new year we now find ourselves in. My mother’s lucky number is 13. Yes, that’s weird. No, don’t ask. But this is the only “13” year she will see. We’re hoping for good things.

That’s kind of been the theme of these early January posts for a while now. It’s become a tradition of sorts for me to fill the first column of a new year with all the reasons this will be the Best Year Ever. But after my 2012 batting average, I think we’re going to put that idea to rest. Why, you ask? Well, let’s take a look at the scoreboard, and see just how many of my 12 predictions of greatness last year panned out, shall we?

I expected great things from the Guided By Voices reunion, and so far (three albums and counting), it’s been… OK. Ani Difranco’s Which Side Are You On was decent, if unremarkable. I can’t even remember Field Music’s Plumb, and my affection for the Magnetic Fields’ Love at the Bottom of the Sea waned quickly. The new Choir album was underwhelming, the Early November reunion merely pretty good. Perennial sure things Aimee Mann and the Shins released mediocre records. And The Hobbit movie was too long and too padded to soar, although I enjoyed it.

That’s nine of the 12 breathless anticipations falling short. The only ones who came through were Marillion, Nada Surf and my friend Andrea Dawn. Even though I liked all of those records a great deal, that’s a 25 percent success rate. That’s a failing grade in any school.

So yeah, 2012 didn’t quite cooperate with me. And even though there are already plenty of records I’m looking forward to in 2013 –including new things from Bad Religion, Camper Van Beethoven, the Joy Formidable, Local Natives, Tegan and Sara, Eels, Frightened Rabbit, Richard Thompson, Foals, Steven Wilson and Cloud Cult – I’m happy not to give this year the same chance to let me down.

Instead, I thought I’d give myself a chance to let you all down by sharing some of my resolutions for this site – nay, this multimedia empire – in the new year. It’s a pretty ambitious list, and I’m hoping I can stick with it. I’ve been writing TM3AM for 12 years now, and I feel like I’ve never tapped into its full potential. This is the year I hope to do that, and here are some of the ways I’d like to try.

1. Kickstart my blog. You may have noticed that at the end of every column, I invite readers to check out my blog, where I post music news, first-listen reviews, and other ancillary pieces that don’t make it into the weekly column. You also may have noticed that I haven’t updated the damn thing in just about a year and a half.

This was not intentional – I took a job that required every waking hour I had, and I just lost track of it. So this year, I’d like to claim it back. I have a few ideas about how to do that, but most importantly, I now have a job that allows me some regular working hours, and a full night’s sleep every day. I don’t want to get into the same situation I found myself in at the end of 2012, with about 60 albums sitting unreviewed, and in many cases, unheard. That’s not acceptable, and I hope a reborn TM3AM blog will fix that.

2. Revive my Twitter account. Once again, I’ve been asking readers to follow my tweets every week, and I haven’t actually tweeted in more than half a year. In this case, the reason is a little more prosaic: I just don’t like Twitter. But I see its purpose, and I know I have to use it, so I’m gonna. One thing I’d like to return to is my live first-listen Twitter reviews. It’s sort of my version of a song-and-dance show – instant impressions of a new record, in quick bites, as they occur to me. People seemed to like these reviews, and I enjoyed doing them, so I’d like to bring them back.

3. Start podcasting. This is more of a wish list item, but I’d like to make it happen. I would love to find a roundtable group of music fans, and produce a regular podcast in which we dissect new music. I’ve participated in a few of these, and they’re great fun. The only thing keeping me from podcasting in the past has been a reluctance to talk to myself in an empty room. But with a group of critics, it would be immensely enjoyable, for me and for you, I think. So I’m putting it on the resolutions list. By my June 5 birthday, there will be a TM3AM podcast.

4. Actually write my Frank Zappa Buyer’s Guide. Longtime readers may remember this project, which never saw the light of day. I regretted not writing it then, but in retrospect, now is the perfect time. Sixty of Frank’s albums have just been remastered and re-released, joining the roughly 30 and counting posthumous documents issued by the Zappa Family Trust. It’s a massive catalog, and now it sounds better than it ever has. It’s a difficult body of work to navigate, but I’ve had years to hone my responses to it, and I’m ready to share. With so much attention being paid to Zappa’s musical genius these days, I feel it is my duty.

5. Try more new bands, and write about them. I’m a curmudgeon. This should come as no surprise. I prefer artists with longer catalogs and proven track records to flash-in-the-pan newbies with a single and an armload of hype. Over the past few years, I’ve been trying to take chances on more new bands, and while it hasn’t always worked out, I’ve discovered some winners. (My number one pick of 2012, for instance.) This year, I will try to remember that every veteran band was once a fledgling unit peddling their first effort, and I’ll endeavor to hear more of those first efforts.

6. Stay positive. I know it will come as a shock to those of you who criticize TM3AM for its relentless sunny outlook, but after 2012, remaining optimistic is quite a bit more difficult. But I will try. Music is such an important part of my life that a misfire year can wreak havoc on my attitude. I just have to keep on remembering what a wise man – the aforementioned Frank Zappa, in fact – once said: music is the best. And it really, truly is.

So there you have it. Here’s hoping I can do all of the above. Thanks, as always, to everyone who has followed along for these last dozen years. Year Thirteen is going to be (dare I say it?) the Best Year Ever. Come on back in seven days when we begin in earnest. Leave a comment on my blog at tm3am.blogspot.com. Follow my infrequent twitterings at www.twitter.com/tm3am.

See you in line Tuesday morning.