Biita Houdei
This Bed Was Made For Me
(Basin Rock)
⭑⭑⭑⭑☆

THIS Bed Was Made For Me feels like the latest release from a stable of hugely talented US singer-songwriters based in California — I’m thinking, in particular, of Weyes Blood and Julia Holter.

Previously working under the moniker LePond, Biita Houdei (now using her adopted Farsi name) wrote many of the songs in Topanga Canyon before relocating to the Catskill Mountains in New York state. 

“The hills have all burned down,” she sings on The Ground Here, a song about her previous home being engulfed by wildfires.

With the set of dreamy, experimental folk recorded in Portland, Houdei’s vocals echo those of Laura Veirs on the catchy Night Fright. And props to fellow singer-songwriter Haley Heynderickx for helping to create such a deliciously warm sound during her first time in the producer’s chair.

An album full of beauty and wonder.

The Mary Wallopers
Paddywhackery
(BC Records)
⭑⭑⭑⭑☆

ALONG with Kneecap, The Mary Wallopers feel like the jokers in the pack of new Irish bands. But things got serious last year at the Victorious festival when the plug was pulled on their performance after they came on stage with a Palestinian flag.

I don’t think the incident is mentioned on the Dundalk group’s third longplayer, but there’s no shortage of raucous, darkly humorous rebellion across the folk-punk set. Landlord’s Demise is full of anger (“greedy little landlords never really went away… All their friends and family are working in the Dail”) as is Sean Na Sagart, the story of a (Catholic) priest hunter in the early 1700s.

And just in case their class allegiance isn’t crystal clear, there’s a stirring cover of Ed Pickford’s socialist Worker’s Song.

As they sing: “This is Irish rock ’n’ roll.”

The Tubs
Hard Life
(Merge)
⭑⭑⭑⭑☆

BORN out of the ashes of the band Joanna Gruesome, Welsh four-piece The Tubs are being tipped as the most exciting British indie group working today.

Self-deprecatingly calling themselves a “Celtic jangle boyband,” on their third album they play a fast-paced kind of New Wave that echoes lots of celebrated artists — I hear Elvis Costello, Bob Mould, The Jam, Squeeze — while also sounding refreshingly modern.

Frontman Owen Williams’ vocals strongly resemble those of Richard Thompson, if Thompson was much cooler and full of self-loathing — Williams has talked about the set’s lyrics comprising two personas, with one haranguing the other for their self-indulgence and immaturity. Cue lots of mocking lines like “So you’re saying I’m gonna move to London/ Well, who’s gonna pay the rent?”

With violinist Chris Haigh thickening the sound, these are simply great, urgent pop songs.