The Meat Puppets are many things - Arizona music legends, stylistic pioneers who broadened the possibilities of punk, acknowledged favorites of Kurt Cobain, and formidable concert performers. But above all, Curt and Cris Kirkwood have always been ace songwriters, and no history of American independent music is complete without a chapter on the Puppets' influence on grunge, weirdo folk-rock, neo-psychedelia, and twisted punk. Consider this: The Meat Puppets were among the few underground Eighties favorites who did not compromise their sound or approach at all when they moved to a major label and widespread acceptance in the Nineties. They didn't have to: the music world had come to them.

Rise To Your Knees, the latest album from the seminal trio, reunites the Kirkwood brothers after a decade apart and finds the pair recapturing the spontaneous magic of their early recordings. Rise may sound as warm and accessible as their '94 hit Too High To Die, but the courageous songwriting here echoes the classics Meat Puppets II and Up On The Sun. Those were the albums that gave shape to the "cowpunk" movement - which has since splintered into a dozen subgenres all deeply indebted to The Meat Puppets - and spawned countless imitators. They also established Curt Kirkwood as one of the legitimate guitar originals of the period, and functioned as a showcase for his unconventional skills. The elder Kirkwood lets it rip on Rise To Your Knees, tearing into tracks like "Light The Fire" and "Vultures" with renewed energy and purpose.

They're named after the world's most famous synthesizer, but they're indisputably a guitar-based band. The country of origin stamped on their passports is located in Central Europe, but they've developed a sound that wouldn't be out of place in the nightclubs of Goteborg, London, or the Lower East Side. They tackle dark subjects in their songs - the lead track on Sold For Tomorrow is positively vampiric - but their videogenic faces are sweet. They're The Moog, and they're Budapest's answer to The Strokes, The Hives, and other internationally successful garage-pop luminaries.

Video director David Vigh was trained in London, but he's a Hungarian, too, and he's made Budapest the base for his production company. Art Mafia has shot clips for many of Hungary's hottest acts, and has also worked with internationally-recognized artists such as Marc Almond. His clip for "I Like You" lavishes plenty of screen-time on the five members of The Moog, and they know exactly what to do with it, too: as they perform, they pose and gesture toward the camera with the easy assurance of true rock stars. As the band plays, a young witch in a darkened chamber crafts voodoo dolls of each member. Satisfied with her work, she turns to the business of torturing the musicians: she electrifies one guitarist, tangles the other up in cords, sets the bassist's feet on fire and sets the drummer's back itching by pouring insects on his doll. She saves her most malicious act for Tonyo, though: as he reaches the bridge of "I Like You", she drives long pins into his chest and stomach. Doubled-over, barely standing, he fights his way to the microphone to deliver his message.

Stuck for a long season in label limbo, Mooney Suzuki has found a new home at Elixia Records - and they're bursting back into the rock mainstream with the thrilling, soulful Have Mercy, in stores June 19th. This time out, the four-piece stomps through a collection of inspired blues-rock, echoing classics from the Stones to J. Geils. "99%", the lead single, begins with an insistent riff, thunders through two rafter-shaking choruses, and then climaxes in a call-and-response release. Sammy James, Jr. has never sounded in better voice: the blues suits his rough-and-tumble shout, and a decade's worth of late nights and encore sets has deepened and toughened his road-tested pipes. There's guitar galore, too - two electrifying solos, including a slide lead that just might induce vertigo in listeners.

The Strokes may have their legion of imitators, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs their glowing reviews, but Gothamites know what time it is: Mooney Suzuki is the band that epitomizes the rebirth of NYC rock and roll in the '00s. Sammy James, Jr.'s ridiculously energetic quartet has always anticipated city trends - when the entire island of Manhattan went Mod at the turn of the decade, Mooney Suzuki had already been there. Remember the celebrated garage-rock revival? It was Mooney Suzuki who were driving that movement, too; kicking the asses of the NYC bands they shared bills with, and showing the would-be punks how to kick out the jams.

Exaggeration? Well, surely a little. The New Rivals don't really have a road vehicle that contains extra-dimensional space. But over the past three years, they have been bringing the party wherever they go. The Sayville, New York combo has gigged relentlessly, tearing up small clubs across the East Coast with their high-energy set; this November, they'll be sharing stages indie rock legends The Lemonheads, and also with punk progenitors Stiff Little Fingers. Even the notoriously hard-to-please Rafer Guzman of New York Newsday has given the group his nod of approval ("disc to look for," . . . "fans of NOFX, Blink-182, and Green Day won't be disappointed"). Fire For Effect, their debut EP, was a four-song rush of adrenaline that left listeners asking if the Rivals could sustain that sort of intensity over a full-length. Wonder no longer: the band's first full-length for Sobe Entertainment is a non-stop rollercoaster ride. Even the "Love Song" turns out to be formal satire. "Ready for a ballad?", asks the band, before replying to their own facetious question, "yeah, neither are The New Rivals".

But make no mistake: these two-fisted rockers are no lunkheads. On the contrary, singer and lyricist Toby Bevis is brash and witty, and favors a succinct, economical address reminiscent of Fat Mike or Billy Joe. We're sure NOFX would love "Mudslinging", a smart, literate get-up-and-go charger that breaks out of the gate like a runaway colt and never slows down. The clip perfectly captures the vibe of a party gone berserk: the van screeches through the streets of Brooklyn, seemingly fueled by the force of the rock within. The New Rivals are ruthless screeners - four scantily-clad car-washer girls make the cut, as does a legit skater, but ugly old dudes are left on the outside, forced to chase the van. Bevis and his bandmates don't mind being homewreckers, either, as they pluck good-looking women from the arms of dweeby (or geriatric) boyfriends, load them in the van, and drive on. At the end, they all hit the open road, Empire State Building in the background, adventure dead ahead.

The Phoenix Foundation became the toast of New Zealand in 2004 with the release of Horsepower, their strange and beguiling debut. Now, thanks to Young American Recordings, the rest of the globe is finally getting a chance to hear what New Zealanders recognized years ago: this combo is as subtly irresistible as any alt-rock group in the world. The clip for "Going Fishing" features plenty of images of the band driving on a country road and horsing around beside a typically gorgeous New Zealand lake - but there's also footage from Eagle Vs. Shark (Oscar-winning director Taika Waititi's new film, for which The Phoenix Foundation contributed to the soundtrack) . At times, there's even an odd correspondence between what's happening in the movie - usually some kind of awkward interaction between the two romantic leads - and the subtle interaction between the band members. Shots of furtive glances cast by shark-suited Loren Horsley toward geeky, oblivious Jermaine Clement share the same heartbreaking futility with the footage of the members of Phoenix Foundation, gathered around a tiny goldfish bowl, casting fishing lines in its direction and missing the aperture at the top. Here at HIP we are confident your viewers will dig this clip!