Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut album has been on WRCT’s top 10 for several weeks, and this week is no exception. The band is the talk of Pitchfork Media and a variety of blogs, got 4.5 stars from Rolling Stone, was named “Year’s Best New Band” by Spin magazine, and all you indie kids have been gleefully clapping to its song “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” for the past six months.

If you are not yet familiar with Vampire Weekend, the group is composed of four Columbia University grads who create catchy indie-pop. The players toured with The Shins, and they cite an afro-pop blog (www.bennloxo.com) as one of their sources of inspiration. These guys — just like a lot of the guys I hang out with — are thoroughly intelligent, well-dressed, and friendly. They surf the Internet and they make short films.

Seemingly cool guys, really. I desperately want to love their album. For some reason, though, their music makes my stomach turn. Every attempt to sit through all 11 songs has been halted by some primitive repulsion.

Vocalist Ezra Koenig describes “the ideal Vampire Weekend” in an interview with The Bwog (www.bwog.net) as “preppiness with West African guitar pop, a perfect fusion of happy world music with Western, New England preppiness.” Oh, is it preppy music, Ezra?

Wikipedia describes the slang usage of preppy adequately: “In recent years, young people have begun to use the term ‘preppy’ to describe those who strive to appear better off financially or socially than others in a middle-class environment…. The slang version most often describes publicly educated people absorbed in the middle-class hypermaterialistic pop culture pursuit of ostensibly quality-made goods sold at prices attainable by almost all Americans” (emphasis added).

Vampire Weekend’s endeavor to appear well off (or, rather, flaunt this privilege) shines through each of the debut’s tracks. The players take the visceral bob and sway of the afro-pop they’re so in love with, correct their pitch and replace them with crisp synths, crooning vocals, and an over-processed drum set. To me, at least, Vampire Weekend’s sound reflects a paternal colonial view of Africa that persists despite the band members’ highly-publicized Ivy League education.

And the band members are sure to make their education and lifestyle shine through their nauseating lyrics — which mention Lil’ Jon, Benetton, Louis Vuitton, Darjeeling tea, Oxford commas, the Khyber Pass, the dowdiness of a sweatshirt, and a soiled keffiyeh. Additionally, they complain about Cape Cod and treat New Jersey like some gritty exotic escape. How adorably and provincially tragic!

Perhaps I’m taking Vampire Weekend far too seriously — although the band members, along with music journalism as a whole, seem to be taking their skyrocketing success pretty damn seriously. If so, I really hope Vampire Weekend is a (very unfunny) joke.

Last week Paperhouse offered one take on rainy day songs, a take that based on fighting the downtrodden mood of the city in the rain. Today, I’m going to flip that around: These are rainy night songs — songs that embrace the loneliness of a black wet night and intensify it. Songs that sound better with rain and cars going by on top of them. Songs for crime.

Now, let’s say you’re robbing a bank. When you’re preparing, getting all the tools you’ll need (welding torch, pliers, possibly explosives, black stockings, guns, etc.), you should be listening to Coil’s “Are You Shivering?” It even has watery sounds built in, and after you come away with all the money, the opening lyrics (“Are you shivering?/Are you cold?/Are you bathed in silver/or drowned in gold?”) will be prophetic.

Once you get to the bank, it’s time to sneak around, right? So you need some sneaking music — try Nurse With Wound’s “A Silhouette and a Thumbtack (Dance In Hyperspace).” Its slightly off-kilter beat is perfect for winding your way around dark hallways in search of the vault, and its tiny, tiny metallic percussion will subliminally remind you to be quiet and skittish like a mouse.

Finally, once you’re at your destination, breaking out the welding torch or the explosives or whatever, you need tense music. Pan Sonic’s “Keskeisvoima/Centralforce” has got you covered. It’s nearly silent for the first half, mostly faint bells and that noise you hear in physics when you rub resin on metal poles. Halfway through, the song explodes in shredding noise, sounding exactly like your metal saw cutting through the door of the safe.

Maybe this is too serious for you — you’re thinking more like a ’20s-style caper, a half-joking escapade where the coppers might be after you. I can’t think of a better artist to put behind some bumbling robbery attempts than Amon Tobin.

With him, you’re not sneaking through the cool financial world — you’re breaking into something lit by incandescent bulbs and with stucco walls, and the safe still has a wheel on the front. I think one of the most perfect tracks for this is “Proper Hoodidge;” it even includes little sections composed of what sounds like guys smacking their lips in perfect imitation of slapstick comedy, alternating with huge bass thuds that’ll make you feel cooler than you really are.

And, finally, if you want some combination of these scenarios — not totally ridiculous but not totally serious either — try the utterly-’90s “Black Milk” by Massive Attack. For this one, though, you have to wear a cat suit, and there have to be a lot of laser beams for you to dodge in a slow, utterly effortless series of maneuvers.

We are knee-deep in springtime here in the ‘Burgh. If optimists and newcomers to the area thought that the transition of seasons would be a steady one, they must be rethinking that assumption now. But just because the sun cannot be depended on just yet, there is no reason to feel that the drizzly days are mucked up.

To help you stay impervious to the changeable weather, here is my advice: Get your galoshes on and your iPod loaded. On top of anything jazz or blues, check out the following songs to keep you jiving during these rainy times:

Thom Yorke — “And It Rained All Night.” The song is brilliant in its frenzy of electronica sounds, funky beats, and clever lyrics. The rim shots mimic the sound of falling rain while the searing synth exudes a paradoxical type of mellow aural lightening. The overall effect is a Radiohead vibe with the exact “indefatigable” motion needed to carry anyone through the grayest of days.

Anne Peebles — “I Can’t Stand the Rain.” The sound is simple: percussion, plucked stringed instruments, very light keyboards, great female soul vocals. Not a huge hit outside of Europe when it was first released, “I Can’t Stand the Rain” gradually arrived at the position of acclaim it deserves. Peebles sings moving lyrics for when it is really pouring.

Tracy Chapman — Let it Rain. I cannot select just one song from the 2002 release; the entire album is just such a solid art piece. Chapman’s voice is strong and genuine. I recommend the title track and “Almost” in particular, but if you have time, sit with your favorite hot drink and relish the entire thing.

Josh Ritter — “Rainslicker.” Ritter’s whole album Hello Starling is worthwhile and alt-country and folk in persuasion. “Rainslicker” is a definite personal favorite because of its poetic lyrics and acoustic style. The song is calming and charming with its feeling of reverie — I catch myself singing to it every time.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah — “Sunshine and Clouds (And Everything Proud).” I cannot explain why I love this song — all 1:02 of it. Instrumental, it is like a defunct music box. It starts, builds, and finishes with its manic funkiness before you realize what hit you.

Beirut — “Elephant Gun.” I just saw on my play count that I have succumbed to “Elephant Gun” a whopping 76 times, and I just got the album Lon Gisland EP a couple of weeks ago. It is smooth, clashing, moody, and layered with trumpet and accordion, and somehow Bavarian in sound. As the band advises, “Let the seasons begin.”