The fact that the members of Aerial were coherent enough after the past year to write an album like the Sentinel is a feat in and of itself. They recorded their first album, Black Rain From The Bombing, toured Sweden, toured Europe, supported the likes of Mono, Bell Orchestre, and Arab Strap, and wrote and recorded the Sentinel - all in a year. Stamina like that is something you rarely see outside of horse races or celebrity sex tapes, and should be admired, especially in light of the end product it produced.

Imagine the product of several open relationships, lost nights, stained sheets, and empty, broken bottles of Jameson involving Mono, Explosions in the Sky, and The End Will Be Kicks and you get about as close as you can get to what the Sentinel radiates, particularly when using others’ accomplishments as signposts. Aerial weave a dense symphony of guitars, fluid and dynamic, yet perfectly in stride with their bass and drum counterparts, gently washing over and alongside them without drowning them out, without denying them their own individuality and presence – and with such a distinct standpoint, one that allows them assured footing on their own turf, and not on the shoulders of others.

The record starts off with people talking, and, like those wonderful people who come to shows just to have conversations about who is no longer welcome in their company right next to you, their voices straining and rising over the music (usually with some annoying twinge to their tone), it doesn’t stop, not even when the fragile guitars start, bleeding into an equally delicate voice. Not until the closing seconds of the opener are we left alone with Aerial’s creations, a subtle shift over to ‘My God, It’s Full Of Stars’ and the Sentinel starts its ascent.

It’s almost useless to try and talk of the work of post-rock bands, even ones with indie leanings such as Aerial, without wanting to lavishly layer superlatives throughout unending sentences, as if one can only capture the essence of the creation by mimicking the lengthy structuring of the guitars, and elongated framework of the songs. Other than hopefully creating a flowing series of sentences of aligned adjectives and competent authorship, you don’t really get much of a sense of the music itself. How many times can you use the words ‘epic’, ‘cinematic’, or ‘atmospheric’ when discussing the guitars, the presence of the vocals, the powerful undertow of the bass, and the present, yet lost flow of the drums?

Luckily, instead of reading endless lines of my failed articulations, It’s a Trap (the most authoritative Scandinavian music site anywhere on the interweb), in association with Nomethod Records, have put up the mp3 of ‘You Will All Die, All Things Will’, and a high quality one at that - none of that 128 kbit/s nonsense. If this song cannot convince you of the talent present in Aerial’s most recent project, then there is something deeply troubled in your soul, and you were born lacking an overabundance of wonder. Don’t worry, I’m sure smooth jazz will be able to rather accurately paint the soundtrack for the rest of your uninspired days.

Despite their home bases in Stockholm and Malmö, Labrador Records has shied away from signing Swedish bands that sing in their native language. That was until the arrival of [ingenting] in 2004. Taking cues from varying artists such as the Velvet Underground, the sunnier side of the Pixies, and the Beach Boys, [ingenting] became “the first band singing in Swedish that’s been amazing enough to be released on Labrador,” as proclaimed by the label. They remain, three years later, the only band on the roster who sing in their mother tongue.

Mycket Väsen För Ingenting, the latest effort from the Swedish popsters, only solidifies the correctness of Labrador’s retreat on its unofficial policy against bands singing in Swedish. While this rather limits the band’s reach in some respects, especially for all of you who like to sing along quite loudly to songs in the privacy of your shower, car, or room, the music itself is strong enough to demand attention. Bands like Sigur Rós and, to a lesser extent, fellow Swedes Kent have found success despite the world’s limited understanding of Swedish and Sigur Rós’ Hopelandic, and I don’t see why [ingenting] wouldn’t be able to find a place in a few non-Swedish hearts.

Starting Mycket Väsen För Ingenting off with a song of the same title, quite content to skip hand in hand along with the garage rock stylings of the aforementioned Velvet Underground, the record slips so easily and effortlessly between a number of sounds as you pass down through the tracklist. ‘Punkdrömmar’ grabs your attention with a far more ‘typical’ Swedish pop-rock approach, just to introduce us to their love of the Pixies (most likely focused around the wonderful ‘Here Comes Your Man’) displayed in songs like ‘Lisa sa’ and ‘Suzanne (vi kan inte gå hand i hand)’.

Despite the obvious effect of other bands on [ingenting]’s song writing process, the band remains determinedly original and very Scandinavian, obviously so on ‘Släpp in solen’, originally released on Sommardagboken to, as the band hoped, be a great summer song and “accompany the sunrises, the full moon and the ocean mist.” Quite a poetic venture, and one, despite its somewhat overly-sentimental overtones, that pays off.

Overall, regardless of your familiarity with the wonderful Swedish language (which I was lucky enough to learn during my time in Stockholm), Mycket Väsen För Ingenting is a solid and inspired record. Combining a number of influences and intertwining them with their own Scandinivian pop sensibilities, [ingenting] have created a record that reveals more and more of itself with repeated listening, living up to their label’s powerful proclamation that the record is “a slightly schizophrenic and highly wonderful collection of songs that tastes of the Swedish country side as well as decadent urban night life and crushed dreams.”

The Ordinary Boys began as a band on a mission. Taking their musical cues from The Clash and The Smiths, they were determined to use their indie-rock soapbox to deride the evils of mainstream media. A noble, if not wholly original cause, to be sure, but it’s a slippery slope for all but the most independent of musical acts. And it’s one that becomes significantly more so after your frontman stars on Britain’s Celebrity Big Brother. Yes, that Big Brother.

So here’s where I should begin ruthlessly tearing into everything that is wrong with The Ordinary Boys now, something that post-Big Brother becomes a fairly easy, maybe even entertaining, task. But for whatever reason, I don’t want to. Painfully hypocritical career choices aside, Samuel Preston still knows how to write one hell of a catchy song, and that overrides even the most questionable of personal lives. And while they may have lost some (if not most) of their teeth since their punchy debut, Over the Counter Culture, the hooks and melodies have thankfully survived a heavy soaking in commercial sheen.

And this album certainly has plenty of sheen. The ska influence remains, but long gone are the crunchy guitars and more traditional rock arrangements. In their place are drum machines, electro basslines, and even a Lady Sovereign cameo (something that, surprisingly enough, didn’t make me projectile vomit all over my iPod). While I won’t say a return to form would be an unwelcome event, The Ordinary Boys wear this sound damn well. From the tailor made for the dancefloor, new wave bounce of ‘Club Chez-moi’, to the hard to believe it’s not Hard-Fi ‘Lonely at the Top’, these songs should get all but the most self-consciously hip of British kids nodding their heads.

Is there more than a little satire going on here? Preston’s ever protesting lyrics would certainly lead you to believe so. But a better question is, who really cares? Ironic or not, The Ordinary Boys have written an album of songs that will keep you singing along all Summer (it’s really not much of a Winter record) if given half the chance. Maybe it’s time for these guys to hang up their hats as musical revolutionaries and accept the fact they’re far more pop than punk. After all, not every band needs a mission statement.