If my Googling skills are up to snuff, the title of the 2006 debut album from Urbs (aka Paul Nawrata) translates roughly – or, possibly, exactly – to “the same old film.” It makes sense, if I’m correct, given Nawrata’s cinematic approach to this G-Stone Recordings release.

A longtime DJ in Austria, Nawrata has pulled together both the dramatic and downtempo for an instrumental soundtrack that will leave you grasping for the RJD2 comparisons. If we’re to assume this is the soundtrack to Nawrata’s life, then he does a wonderful job of coaxing emotion and moods out of a (mostly) word-less space. Much like the cover of the album, you’ll feel like you’re transported into some sepia-toned foreign film surrounded by beautiful French-speaking women, fancy cigarettes and fancier cars.

This is downtempo/trip-hop that isn’t served its due as background music. (Also, Nawrata’s take on Duran Duran’s The Chauffeur is excellent.)

• Urbs | Tu Moi Aussi?

Inspired a bit by Idolator’s Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda feature, in which they rummage into albums of yore, I’m going back to (gasp!) 1994 for today’s post. (Kudos to Idolator for the Rival Schools post yesterday.)

Satchel existed in a strange, and ultimately thankless, place: a couple degrees of separation from Pearl Jam, whose guitarist, Stone Gossard, formed the side band Brad with drummer Regan Hagar. With Gossard off on his Pearl Jam duties, Hagar and singer Shawn Smith formed Satchel.

The band’s debut, EDC, carries a loose concept around Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs; there are songs named after characters (Mr. Brown, Mr. Pink, Mr. Blue) and clips of the film are interspersed between tracks. “Take the satchel of diamonds and scram. I’m right about that, right? That’s correct? That’s your story?” (Ahhh, we have a band name!)

I remember wearing out the track Mr. Pink when the album originally came out. But it’s odd that maybe I don’t have a full appreciation of the album until 13 years later. Big guitars and piano-heavy ballads helped carry me out of the grunge years and into a sound more spacious and compelling, though my 16-year-old head – more into A Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets at the time – struggled to wrap itself around it. Gotta say now that EDC never sounded better.

• Satchel | Mr. Pink
• Satchel | Suffering

Wading through the piles of CDs on my desk recently, I couldn’t believe I haven’t done a proper post on Devastations, other than singer Conrad Standish’s excellent contribution to the I Used to Love H.E.R. series.

Devastations (“Devs” to their close friends) released Coal on Brassland in the United States last year; I believe the LP had a European/Australia release in 2005, but don’t quote me on that (they are from Australia). (Also, you may recognize Brassland as the label run by writer Alec Hanley Bemis and the Dessner twins of the National.)

Anyway, if you’re feeling emotionally vulnerable, maybe you don’t want to listen to Coal. Or then, maybe you do. Standish’s baritone voice can be comforting, in the way the bottom of a bottle might be if you’re feeling lonely. It’s moody and intense, and Standish’s low-register range reminds me a great deal of Mark Sandman from Morphine.

• Devastations | The Night I Couldn’t Stop Crying

(Coal available at eMusic.)

One more thing: Oh, hell yeah!

From the don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover department: Knowing nothing about Six Parts Seven, I was sure when I received the band’s latest offering, Casually Smashed to Pieces, this had to be some metal band, and there was no way I’d even bother listening. I mean, just look at that cover what with the menacing viking and all.

Ahhh, irony. Imagine my surprise when I see Six Parts Seven listed as opener on tour for folk-country favorite Richard Buckner (April 3 at Rhythm Room in Phoenix, by the way). Not only is Six Parts Seven opening, it will be the backing band for Buckner during his set (via). In the many times I’ve seen Buckner, never have I seen him with a full band. So, naturally, I was curious (not to mention embarrassed by my shallow first impressions).

This is an instrumental album, which usually sets off warning alarms inside my head … ahem, Ratatat. But Casually Smashed (on Suicide Squeeze) is concise – eight songs, 31 minutes, to be exact. Anyone with a short-attention span can appreciate that. But anyone with a good ear can love the textures here, supplemented nicely by horns and lap-steel guitars. As a huge fan of Buckner, the pairing all makes perfect sense to me now.

• Six Parts Seven | Stolen Moments

I got my first listen yesterday of new albums by the Shins (Wincing the Night Away) and Low (Drums and Guns). To be fair, there is absolutely no basis by which to compare these two, other than a common label in Sub Pop.

But I have to admit: I was far more intrigued by getting a crack at Low’s album than the Shins. Nothing against the Shins, really; they’re swell and all, though I’ve never been particularly floored by what they do.

More likely, the spacious and aggressive (for Low, anyway) tones of Low’s previous release, The Great Destroyer, still resonate, and the group’s evolution is far more appealing to me than that of the Shins.

As such, I’m sure it was someone’s idea of a joke to tag the genre ID as “pop” on Drums and Guns. Sure, Low took a more accessible approach on The Great Destroyer, but “pop” might be stretching it a bit, even on a new album that incorporates vocal/electronic loops and drum machines. The more I listen to this album, the more I’m sure Low played a couple of these tracks when we saw them in Tucson last March (Sandinista and Violent Past, specifically).

Low maintains its “slowcore” roots here, but this added layer of electronic assistance pushes the group into more a abstract place. Yet these ambient and almost incidental blips/bleeps (best appreciated on headphones) hardly clutter the sound; given Low’s minimal foundation, there certainly was room to add on without interfering with what they do best. Of course, Low likely threatens to turn off traditionalists with these new arrangements (if The Great Destroyer didn’t already), but, again, none of it feels excessive; the mood is still stark and haunting.

And Alan Sparhawk’s lyrics are dark as ever. On the macabre and lovely Murderer:

“One more thing before I go /
One more thing I’ll ask you, Lord /
You may need a murderer /
Someone to do your dirty work.”

Drums and Guns is due out March 20 on Sub Pop.

• Low | Violent Past (Edit: Taken down at request of label.)

The little I know about Panther comes from the praise my wife and my boy Royce heaped upon him after seeing him open for Ratatat in September. (Ratatat … not so great.) Unfortunately, I arrived late, so I missed his set.

In fact, I know so little about Panther (aka Charlie Salas-Humara) that I’d rather just let the music speak for itself instead of trying to feign knowledge or cut-paste PR material. I will say that Panther is the type of artist I seem to be drawn to more and more of late: solo, creative, unorthodox (much like the Gray Kid).

Anyway, Panther is releasing the full LP Secret Lawns on Fryk Beat on March 6.

• Panther | How Well Can You Swim

(Disclaimer: This group has made the blog rounds, so you may be bored/amazed by my keen ability to somehow remain constantly behind the curve. What can I say? It’s a special talent.)

That I let Horse Feathers’ Words Are Dead (available at eMusic) slip through the cracks in ’06 is either a sign of my slowly deteriorating brain cells or that I was really wrapped up in my favorites of the year. (I’ll pick the latter; please, indulge me here.)

I even saw the Portland, Ore., duo in Los Angeles (along with the Drunkard, Ben and Robot Mark, who did a fine job of putting on the show). Justin Ringle and Peter Broderick use an assortment of stringed instruments (and a saw; yes, a saw) to great effect – creating a haunting quietness you’re almost sure to disturb if you so much as breathe wrong. Try whispering to someone during the set and watch dirty looks descend upon you.

That makes for both an unsettling and enthralling atmosphere. I’ve only ever felt that when I’ve seen Richard Buckner (many times) and, more recently, Jose Gonzalez. Though I’m not as taken with Ringle’s voice pitch as I am with Buckner’s husky tones, Ringle carries plenty of feeling through more nervous tendencies: jumpy inflections and quick crescendos. He probably works harder to coax more out of his voice than a lot of the monotone indie-folksters.

Add to that the mood-setting string arrangements – witness the tempo/emotional burst of change on Falling Through the Roof – and Words Are Dead has a more commanding presence than you’d initially expect.

• Horse Feathers | Falling Through the Roof

HOWEVER, words are not entirely dead. I have been intrigued by the American Dialect Society’s choice of “plutoed” as its 2006 word of the year. From Associated Press:

To “pluto” is “to demote or devalue someone or something,” much like what happened to the former planet last year when the General Assembly of the International Astronomical Union decided Pluto didn’t meet its definition of a planet.