The Postal Service’s birth sounds anachronistic today–it’s now common practice for artists to collaborate around the world through email and online file boxes. But there’s something about the romanticism of the whole idea, right before our online lives would largely render the actual postal service obsolete. That romanticism goes hand-in-hand with the album’s huge influence. Released in 2003, Give Up wound up going platinum, becoming one of the biggest-selling albums ever released by the indie label Sub Pop. Fans clamored for a follow-up, but the Postal Service never delivered. Gibbard and Tamborello felt one album was enough, and the two went their separate ways.

Still, Give Up changed more than a few lives: a little-known singer-songwriter calling himself Iron & Wine scored a hit after covering “Such Great Heights;” Gibbard’s own Death Cab For Cutie soon hit the mainstream; and nowadays, there’s an entire generation of laptop-aided musicians who can trace their lineage back to that inauspicious debut. A decade later, Gibbard and Tamborello now seem set to recognize their collective impact. The two have reunited under the Postal Service banner  to play a string of high-profile festival dates, and Sub Pop has deemed it fit to reissue the landmark album. Included in the reissue are the demos and sketches that first inspired the band, and the Postal Service have also included a handful of newly-recorded songs. “A Tattered Line Of String,” featuring Jenny Lewis on backing vocals, picks up right where the group left off in 2003. This time around, though, there’s hope that the Postal Service will stay a little longer.

The four-piece formed in 2006, and worked their way up on the local Sydney scene. Their reputation as a live act’s earned them a few accolades from outlets in their home country. And speaking of live, they’ve played with psych-friendly acts like Austin’s own Black Angels, San Francisco’s Wooden Shjips, the U.K.’s Swervedriver, and fellow Aussies Tame Impala. They’ve also got some cool stuff on wax as well. Back in 2011, The Laurel’s released their debut six-song EP Mesozoic. The EP’s a bit of a departure from the modern style of psych in that it eschews ultra-heavy, washy sound in favor of crisper production that manages to not skimp on the lysergic haze.

The Laurels followed up Mesozoic last year with their debut full-length Plains, which got a stateside release last week. One of the stand-outs on the record is a tune called “Manic Saturday.” The song begins with a steady, pounding bass bubbling underneath scrawly feedback. A repeated, klaxony guitar line slices through the haze. Despite all its swirly psychness (the half-minute break-down that closes the song is particularly cool–include backwards guitar lines that evoke the switched-on middle-Beatles), this is a pop song, as hook-laden as anything on the Top 40. The Laurel’s welcome embrace of fidelity is like a cool drink on a hot day, and you don’t get cooler than this band.

The Laurels are joining the likes of The Black Angels, Roky Erickson, and The Moving Sidewalks this Sunday (April 28) on the Reverberation Stage (they kick off the day at 3:00 p.m.) at Austin Psych Fest.

It certainly captured Joel Guzman’s attention. Growing up in Washington state, Guzman was about as far away from Mexico and South Texas as you can get, but he received a healthy dose of Tejano and conjunto at family parties. He soon learned the accordion and moved to Texas, joining the Grammy-award winning band Little Joe y la Familia before venturing out on his own. With his wife Sarah Fox, Guzman has brought a new-found notoriety to Tejano music, both from fans and musicians alike. The duo’s list of collaborations is stunning: Kris Kristofferson, Bonnie Raitt, Freddy Fender, Los Lobos, Joe Ely, and many more.

Given the pedigrees, it was only a matter of time before Meyers and Guzman linked up. For seven years, Guzman and Fox have put on Squeezebox Mania, an Austin music festival dedicated to all things accordion. This year, Meyers joined in on the festivities, and he also accompanied the Squeezebox Mania band when they stopped by KUTX’s Studio 1A. Meyers, Guzman, and zydeco queen Debra Peters all featured on dueling accordions, displaying the versatility and dynamism of the instrument. They even dusted off a longtime Texas Tornados favorite, “(Hey Baby) Que Paso,” a song guaranteed to stay stuck in your head for the next week or so, thanks to that insistent beat and Meyers’ biting wit. “It’s about my wife running off with my best friend,” Meyers said, before adding with a smirk, “and I miss him.”

The foursome have two LPs under their belt (2008′s Midnight Matinee and 2010′s Melt White). Their latest, The Secret Will Keep You, comes out this week, and it even has an Austin pedigree. Brass Bed decamped from from Lafayette, and headed to Austin to record the album with Danny Reisch at Jim Eno’s Public Hi Fi recording studio. A marathon 10-day recording session yielded a record that’s light on its feet, but heavy on the heart. There’s The band, aided by Reisch’s signature playful production touch, jaunts through tunes like the woozy opener “Cold Chicory” and the flower-powered “How To Live In A Bad Dream.”

They are, for the most part, sunny-sounding tunes. But with sunshine always comes shade. There’s a loneliness, an eagerness for company, lurking just below the surface on The Secret. Sometimes it’s obvious, like on “Please Don’t Go,” (they reference the title later in the record on the aforementioned “How To Live”), but sometimes it’s not so obvious. “I’ll Be There With Bells On” seems like a stomping rocker with a nice little sugary psych break-down in the middle. But the lyrics hint at some deep insecurity. The protagonist just wants to be told what to do, where to go, and what to say. By the end, he repeats the line “I won’t be a coward” over and over again. He’s trying to convince himself, but the rising force with which he shouts his mantra adds a little menace to the sweetness. At just under two-and-a-half minutes it’s a quick pop assault, but one that’ll bend your mind a bit if you just do a little digging.

The band, as many do, got their start in a basement in the ‘burbs. D.C. teenagers Alex Tebeleff and Eduardo Rivera slung guitars and dug on groups like Television and Radiohead and artists like Fela Kuti. They teamed up with drummer Brandon Moses and bassist John Di Lascio to form Paperhaus. The band eventually settled in a row house (dubbed “The Paperhaus“) in the Petworth neighborhood of D.C. where they set up a DIY studio-cum-performance ‘n’ art space where artists could come in, record, and play a few tunes for folks. The band released their debut, self-titled EP in 2011.

Last month, NPR’s Bob Boilen premiered a new Paperhaus tune called “Helicopters” from their upcoming EP Lo Hi Lo (out May 28). There’s a very cool push-and-pull at work on the song. The delicately dancing guitars and hushed vocals contrast nicely with the strong rhythm work and pulsing bass. A buzzy guitar solo adds some extra zip as well. Paperhaus recorded the Lo Hi Lo EP at D.C.’s legendary Inner Ear Studios. The studio opened shop in the late 70s, and it’s hosted the who’s who of D.C. punk and alternative (including the fellas mentioned up top) in the years since. Now you can add Paperhaus to that list.

Paperhaus will be swinging through Austin tonight at Holy Mountain.

Granted, Junip preceded González’s solo career by a good half-decade, having formed in Gothenburg, Sweden in 1998. They never recorded any material, and when González stepped into the spotlight, the band effectively dissolved. Attempts to revive it over the years took a backseat to touring commitments and schooling for the other two band members, Tobias Winterkorn and Elias Araya. Ten years later after its start, Junip finally began to take shape–tentatively, at first. The band’s sound began to gel not through songwriting but improvisation. And you can certainly hear that spontaneity; Fields, Junip’s 2010 debut, is a sprawling affair, punctuated by buzzing synthesizers, complex-yet-understated drumming, and González’s distinctive voice.

Junip returns on April 23 with their self-titled second album, and it’s a perfect follow-up: Bigger, bolder, but rooted in the trio’s unique sound. Distorted stompers sit side-by-side to more experimental epics, and the record unfolds piece by painstaking piece. Still, the group finds time for the kind of straightforward folk-pop that González first made his name on. “Your Life Your Call” sounds like a dance hit with the volume turned down, pushing the rhythm to the forefront while González’s nylon string guitar colors the edges. It’s these kinds of surprising combinations that will make it hard for González to ever leave Junip again.

Of course, those oddities are front-and-center in Russell’s main gig. The Gourds’ laid-back brilliance has earned them a huge following in Austin and beyond, and a feature-length documentary about the band is in the works. Amidst this low-key success, Russell has stepped out on his own for three solo albums, two under the banner of Shinyribs. When asked about his unusual moniker, Russell claims that a lady yelled that at him when he was handing out barbeque on a street corner. Within his universe, there are often more questions than answers, but that’s par for the course.

Gulf Coast Museum is a tour through this unique universe, featuring folk ballads, soul struts, and an aching cover of “If You Don’t Know Me By Now.” “Song of Lime Juice And Despair,” which Russell debuted recently in KUTX’s Studio 1A, is as free-wheeling as the title suggests. In the song, country dances arm-in-arm with disco for a combination Russell has slyly termed as “crisco,” but it could go by other names as well. “It’s this interesting piece of western music but with a surreal lyric over the top of it,” says Russell. “So that’s why some people call it ‘Salvador Dali-Parton.’” Whatever you want to call it, it’s perfectly Gulf Coast–and it’s perfectly Shinyribs.

Enter L.A.-based multi-instrumentalist Robert Fleming. These days, he creates music under the name Victory. Like other folks with a pseudonym, Fleming’s pre-Victory CV is somewhat of a mystery. His first release under the Victory name was the 2011, seven-song EP Demonstrations. He recorded the record at home by himself, but it has none of the earmarks of a “home recording.” The 60s-inspired tunes are bright and punchy, as is the crystal-clear production. It’s a marvel of what one fella can do musically all by his lonesome these days.

Fleming keeps the music rolling this month with a brand-new full-length out April 23 called Victory is Music. If you’re a TV kinda person, you may’ve already heard the record’s first single, “Play It,” gracing the tube in a recent Cadillac spot. With a deeply funky and buzzy bass line, the tune’s catchy as the flu. There’s a repeating organ line that’s straight out of some obscure 60s South American cumbia record. This is a tune made for dancing. Other tracks on the record show off Fleming’s strong guitar chops a bit better (and a strong vocal resemblance to Britt Daniel), but “Play It” is Fleming having a good time. Whatever Fleming did before he changed his name, this is a tune that shows that Victory is winning.

Back in 1996, a few school friends started jamming in a pub basement in the their seaside hometown of Hoylake (near Liverpool). Ryder-Jones was one of them, and the band they formed would eventually become The Coral. Ryder-Jones stayed with them for five full-lengths until his 2008 departure. He jumped right into his solo career. In 2011 he released the ambitious, orchestral album If…, a record conceived as a companion soundtrack of sorts to Italo Calvino’s 1979 novel If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler.

Ryder-Jones returns to more traditional pop songwriting for his newest record Bad Wind Blows In My Heart (out April 23 on Domino Records). He recorded the album in his childhood bedroom at his mother’s house in Liverpool. Composed mostly on piano and guitar (with the help of some local friends in the band By The Sea), it’s a quiet, tender record that has more in common with singer-songwriters like Nick Drake and Elliott Smith than the psych-pop of his former band The Coral. The album’s first single “He Took You In His Arms,” is a lovely, classic pop ballad (complete with a few nice, Beatles-y chord changes, and a lyrical refrain at the end). Ryder-Jones almost whispers his vocals, and with the warm, naturalistic recording, you can just hear his fingers sliding across the guitar’s fretboard. It’s an intimate tune from a songwriter that’s really blossomed since embarking on his solo career.

But as any Meat Puppets fan can attest, the band has gone through many life cycles. With the gigantic success came drug addiction and a break-up in 1996. Three years later, the band reconvened with Shandon Sahm–Sir Doug’s son–taking over drumming from Bostrom. The Meat Puppets broke up again in 2002, only to reform in 2006, this time in Austin. Since then, the band has become a local staple, releasing three albums with number four, Rat Farm, out April 16.

Even with all the stops and starts, the brothers Kirkwood soldier on. With Sahm and Curt’s son Elmo joining in, Rat Farm takes the shape of “real blown-up folk music,” in the words of Curt, and it’s hard to dispute that assessment. Rock, folk, reggae, and punk are all thrown together–sometimes in the same song–and the album proves that the band will follow whatever path it chooses. On “Down,” Curt sings about his other medium–painting–and the metaphor sticks: The Meat Puppets might have a few coats of paint on them, but they’re no worse for the wear.

You can catch the Meat Puppets on April 16 at Waterloo Records, starting at 5 pm.