Alice Donut

Even psychedelic pervs have to grow up eventually, so it's a relief that this veteran NYC underground unit's tenth album is neither as outre nor as deranged as their rep suggests. Basically, it's just an energetic, unyieldingly off-kilter hard rock record -- augmenting meaty Nirvana riffs with Doors-like keyboards, and obsessing with cryptic sarcasm on drinking, driving, prog-rock chicks and lost American hopes. In an earlier era, the rhythmically vocal-hooked "Shiloh" might've been a college-radio hit. And the closing Pixies cover only seems gratuitous until you notice the trombones.