HORSEGIRL Phonetics On and On (Matador) — Although they’ve hardly become grizzled souls, Horsegirl have moved past their precocious ingenue phase. The trio’s fabulous debut, Versions of Modern Performance, was recorded when they were Chicagoland high school students. Three years later, they still haven’t aged into the bracket where car rentals are available to them, but they go at the material on their sophomore full-length with the assurance of old pros. Phonetics On and On has some of the freewheeling indie-rock tourism that made Horsegirl special from the jump. The album is also the sound of talented musicians locking into place with blasting their collective voice to the world. By the evidence in these grooves, Horsegirl remain devotees of a style of low-key, downbeat college rock that had its scuffling heyday well before they were born. That theory is borne out by “Where’d You Go?,” which has a stripped-down ease reminiscent of Beat Happening, and the snaky, folky “2468,” which sounds like the result of some sort of Montessori program bringing in the Feelies to polish up their schoolyard chants. In their melancholy longing, the lyrics often reflect a familiar twenty-something drift, as with the romantic fallout detailed obliquely yet poignantly on “I Can’t Stand to See You” (“Da, da, da, da, da/ We’ll shake hands goodbye now/ Da, da, da, da, da/ It’s all we can do”). As settled as the sound might be, Horsegirl are continually experimenting with different textures that gives every track the feel of discovery. There’s the thrilling tempo shift at the very end of “Rock City,” the chipper indie dirge “Sport Meets Sound,” and the little Americana lilt to “Information Content.” Horsegirl is a band to grow older with. Give endless attention to the following cuts: “Well I Know You’re Shy,” “Switch Over,” and “Frontrunner.”

SUNNY WAR Armageddon in a Summer Dress (New West) — Inspiration comes from many quarters. And sometimes those quarters are haunted. At least, Sunny War thought she was living in a haunted house when she took up residence in her late father’s hundred-year-old house. Then it turned out that the apparitions she was encounters were hallucinations brought on by a gas leak. That evidently counts as inspiration, too. Sunny War’s new album, Armageddon in a Summer Dress, is thrillingly unsettled, as if she’s working out her own misgivings in real time. For the album, Sunny War moves away from her familiar acoustic guitar and goes electric, giving the material an extra thump. “Walking Contradiction,” with Steve Ignorant guesting, sounds like vintage Tracy Chapman after snaking through thirty years of hip pop evolution, and “No One Calls Me Baby” calls to mind PJ Harvey in her stately, restrained powerhouse mode. There are also plenty of examples of Sunny War twisting in playful ways: “Bad Times” is airy pop that’s weirdly reminiscent of a Paul McCartney throwaway from the early nineteen-eighties, and “Ghosts” sounds like it could be delivered by a slinky cartoon chanteuse. All her sensibilities converge on “Scornful Heart,” performed with Tré Burt. The song pulls on folk, blues, rock ‘n’ roll, and soul all at once. As the music moves along coolly, the lyrics about perpetual dissatisfaction hit like a fist. The album’s title suggests incongruous experiences. Sunny War delivers just that, doing so with fierce invention. In addition to the cuts mentioned, have a blast with the following: “One Way Train,” “Cry Baby (with Valerie June), “Gone Again,” and “Debbie Downer.”