THE OPHELIAS Spring Grove (Get Better) — The Ophelias take the name of their third full-length album from a vast cemetery in their hometown of Cincinnati. That could signal a somber affair, and there doses of cynicism aplenty to be found in the lyrics. Mainly, though, Spring Grove suggests the Ophelias feel a sense of place. As the songs play out, it’s clear they know exactly where they stand. Produced with clarity and unobtrusive craft by Julien Baker, the album is a compendium of artful indie rock. “Vulture Tree,” which recruits Pom Pom Squad head cheerleader Mia Berrin to help with vocals, is as sinewy and knowing as a Laura Marling track, and “Shapes” gently recalls the solo work of Baker’s boygenius bud Phoebe Bridgers. What’s maybe most impressive about the album is the way it stays true to the stripped-down integrity of the musicianship while still adding heft to the tracks, whether its the full, richly layered title cut, the jabbing “Cicada,” or the deep grind of “Sharpshooter.” On “Salome,” which revives the title subject’s Biblical story as a of-the-now feministic anthem, the Ophelias even come across almost like Veruca Salt with the reins held tighter. Like any album that represents a major step forward for an artist — and Spring Grove surely does — the work reverberates with determination and purpose. Blast these cuts with ecstasy: “Open Sky,” “Parade,” “Crow,” and “Say to You.”

MEKONS Horror (Fire) — On the new album Horror, their first studio outing in five years, Mekons operate with a hard-earned, worldly wisdom. Closing in on five full decades of making music adored by the coolest of the cool kids, the latest set of songs from the storied collective flit freely between genre while imparting grizzled lessons. Album opener “The Western Design” puts an odd reggae lilt to lyrics about British colonialism that could have come right out of a particularly pointed primer: “Jon Dee, with his scrying mirror/ Necromanced the British empire/ Oliver Cromwell kicked it off.” Elsewhere, “War Economy” goes guitar strap to guitar strap with Gang of Four in every way (“We did not invite you, you do not know us/ Nor do you know our world, you have no right to rule us”). There’s an airy disco verve to “Glasgow,” a cowboy slope to “Surrender,” and a grand stateliness to the ballad “Fallen Leaves.” All the while, Mekons are distinctly themselves, as has been the case for lo these many years. When Sally Timms delvers vocals on “A Horse Has Escaped” that have the dramatic cadence of prime Marianne Faithfull, the reminiscent quality still feels tightly tethered to the Mekons aesthetic. As much as any other band that burbled up on the left end of the radio dial only to leave the rest of the FM band mightily perplexed, Mekons made real art. After all these years, they still do. In addition to those already mentioned, marvel at the following cuts: “”Sad and Sad and Sad,” “Private Defense Contractor,” and “You’re Not Singing Anymore.”

SLEIGH BELLS Bunky Becky Birthday Boy (Mom + Pop) — Sleigh Bells sound too brash to be venerable titans of alternative music, and yet here we are. Fifteen years after their jarring debut LP, Treats, spun the then dominant music blogosphere into a giddy tizzy, vocalist Alexis Krauss and everything-else-ist Derek Miller keep trying every conceivable permutation of their electroclash sound. They’re like a kid who wants to really scrutinize every last pattern of colored squares that can be made with a Rubik’s Cube before solving the thing and putting it on the shelf for good. Their sixth full-length, Bunky Becky Birthday Boy, is everything they’ve always been and more, more, more. It’s tempting to hear the album as a little nostalgic. They’re happy to revisit their trademark cheerleader churn technique on “Real Special Cool Thing” and they opt for full-on autobiography on the busy, buzzy single “Wanna Start a Band?” Just as they add loads of studio-sculpted sounds, Sleigh Bells also sprinkle in other complications, as with the misgivings embedded in the pumping party anthem “Badly”: “The party is hotter than we could ever imagine/ The city is tragic, you know, but that doesn’t matter/ I’m free as a bird, but my soul is at hazard.” The sunny, blazing “Roxette Ric” and inexhaustible machine gun beats of “Hi Someday” are simultaneously familiar and unexpected, contributing further to the sense that the duo have it in them to keep churning out these candy-coated sounds forever. Unwrap these presents: “Life Was Real,” “Can I Scream,” and “Pulse Drips Quiet.”