Join me this time around as I take a look at a number of also-rans. Together they might make something notable. While I try to find the good in any crop of new releases, sometimes there’s just no diamond in the rough. Back to normal in two weeks.

Shoo/LIONLIMB (Bayonet)

I find this album mildly offensive because it suggests Elliott Smith is back from the grave and stopped caring so much. But there’s a bit more nuance here than Mr. Misery ever allowed; check that rhythm guitar on “Ride” or the panorama on “Turnstile.” Perhaps those are merely thanks to a veteran producer’s inclinations, but that’s somewhat small in the scope of the overall presentation. And though the remaining undercurrents are often as banal as the song titles, as in the most notorious offender “Lemonade,” the jaunts often save it. You could say the same thing about Iggy and the Stooges, really.

Life of Pause/WILD NOTHING (Captured Tracks)

Ever felt like New Order could have used more marimbas? OK, that’s not a perfect assessment; New Order was overtly dance-oriented in their heyday, while this plays like a Cure hybrid record where they embraced the cuter aspects of new wave but not the ebullience that comes with it. One question: why the bouncy melodies if you’re just going to sing them like you have lockjaw?

In My Mind/BJ THE CHICAGO KID (Motown)

This is basically a neutered “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.” “Shine” is even a blatant copy of “Blame Game” (which itself was an interpolation of Aphex Twin’s “Avril 14th”). I need to double-check whether “R&B for Dummies” actually exists. “Try to give the most basic impression of grassroots Christianity. Make sure to include at least one segment in the French language, which is considered sensual.”

Seth Bogart/SETH BOGART (Burger)

To be the most irreverent in a particular crowd is often treated as an honorable venture. In music, it rarely ends well. Zappa pulled it off, but he was a gifted composer and performer. Zappa could also strike at the heart of a problem in very few words. For Seth Bogart, irreverence is where the similarities end, so maybe that’s an unfair comparison — he’s more of a visual artist with his own soundtrack. This self-titled debut throws consumerism and “supermarket supermodels” into sharper relief — my whole life is a lie! And while that gives context to an album that’s “covered in plastic,” the trappings of party electronics don’t work very well coming through a pair of headphones.

Travis Johnson lives in New London. He has a music blog that can be found at theoldnoise.blogspot.com. Follow him @ThisOldNoise or contact him at thisoldnoise@gmail.com.