New Albums From Icona Pop and Krewella The first thing you notice is all the screaming. Icona Pop is a Swedish duo, Caroline Hjelt and Aino Jawo - singers both, but shouters more. Their hit is "I Love It," inescapable for the last year, at home at indie dance parties and sports arenas alike. The hook is naïve and cheeky and, depending on your angle, exuberant or petulant: "I! Don't! Care! I love it! Aino Jawo, facing camera, and Caroline Hjelt of Icona Pop. Gustavo Caballero/Getty Images for Clear Channel Ms. Hjelt, left, and Ms. Jawo of Icona Pop performing in Miami last summer. They and the Yousaf sisters of Krewella are among the few female voices in dance music today. The group's second album, "This Is ... Icona Pop" (Record Company Ten/Big Beat), was released this week, and it plays like a sweet-toothed sparring session, one punch after the next of joyful high-pitched barking. The group's first album was released in Sweden last year. Also released this week was the debut Krewella album "Get Wet" (Columbia), which features vocals by Jahan and Yasmine Yousaf, who are sisters, and who also gleefully scream. The group also includes the producer Kris Trindl. The current dance music tidal wave has lifted almost all boats, but it has largely been unkind to women - there are few commercially successful female D.J."s to speak of, and many of the female vocalists on crossover pop hits are already stars in their home genres. Dance music has done a poor job of minting homegrown female stars. So, dance music needs women, it needs signature vocalists, and it needs identifiable faces. Icona Pop and Krewella fill those voids ably, in analogous but differing ways. What they have in common is energy - not aggression, but zeal. Both acts serve as a rebuke to the traditional idea of the dance music diva, an object of admiration but also untouchableness. The singers of Icona Pop owe plenty to punk, and maybe even riot grrrl; certainly they have listened to Le Tigre, along with some Abba, naturally. The sisters of Krewella are tougher to pin down, if only because everything on "Get Wet" is drowned with digital processing: the singing, the semi-rapping, any sense of heritage. Krewella works with a more muscular musical palette than Icona Pop does. "Get Wet" pulses with dubstep, megaclub trance, hard house, serrated electro and more. It is a ruthless album, more convincing than it is fun. The urgency in the music is palpable - it moves quickly, changes directions mercilessly, and does not let loose of its stranglehold. But there's a slightly dull anonymity to Krewella's vocals - there's no way to tell if the Yousaf sisters are great, or even interesting singers, because of all the effects. "Get Wet" is demanding, and exhausting; its joy is short-lived. Maybe at least a touch of soothing helps all the punishment go down more easily. At the Music Hall of Williamsburg on Wednesday night, Icona Pop played its second New York show in a week, the final stop on its American tour. And yes, it was loud. Its songs are full of enthused shouts celebrating partying and love, all delivered with clean precision. Ms. Hjelt has a slightly huskier voice than Ms. Jawo, but not by much, and at this show, at least some of the singing appeared to be aided by backing tracks, which felt awkward, especially in such an intimate space. All in all, it was a set-up for a far larger room - there was a pyramid at center stage, behind which both women had arrays of instruments they'd turn to intermittently. When they did so, stepping away from the front of the stage, cameras positioned under the pyramid captured their hands in motion and displayed them on a big screen on the wall behind them, as if they were playing a huge dance festival. A cameraman on stage for much of the show added to the aura of plasticity, as if the duo was also remaking, or commenting on, Duran Duran's "Girls on Film" video. Ms. Hjelt and Ms. Jawo were dressed like the Jetsons. At least a few audience members were dressed like extras from "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains." Synthetic punk was in the air, delivered with charm and the occasional flash of insolence. The duo closed with "I Love It," of course, during which they invited up about a dozen people to scream along with them. At the end, the guests for the most part filed out in orderly fashion, save for one girl, who had to be held back as she had her eyes fixed on Ms. Hjelt, and was doing a different sort of screaming. Worrisome, sure, but it was as if she'd caught the spirit.