A necessary addition to the collection of Belle & Sebastian fans, indie pop fans, and music lovers.

Blak and Blu's production (by Rob Cavallo and Mike Elizondo in collaboration with Clark) is too polished and processed for its own good, but if this album isn't likely to change your life, it will make an hour of it a lot more interesting, and there's no arguing that Gary Clark, Jr. is a talent strong enough to match his record company's hype.

While Whirr never quite nail the Ride drum sound, MBV wooziness, or arid Slowdive mystery that they're going for on these tracks, the results are still strong, weaving a deeply textural sound that drifts along like a lazy canoe ride on the hottest day of the year.

His productions are just the right balance of lush and gritty, blending rich string arrangements by Miguel Atwood-Ferguson and lovely harp playing by Lara Somogyi with modular synth swells and soulful organs.

Second Nature steps firmly into a more mature adult alternative realm befitting the subject matter, without abandoning playfulness or high-contrast dynamics (or bandmates Dan Molad and Peter Lalish, who appear here) in the process.

Delivering raw, narrative‑driven songwriting that feels both prescient and relatable, as heard on standout cuts like "Plastic Cigarette," "Say Why," and "Appetite."

There's no way around the fact that most of Machine Dreams is icy electro-pop, but it is not as if the truly singular Yukimi Nagano, an enamoring vocalist, has switched to drone mode, forsaking her grounding in R&B.

This set is welcoming, open, and warm: it invites fans of all of his musical pursuits along for the ride.

Every number is given a slick electronic gloss that pushes it in the direction of adult contemporary MOR. Far from being a detriment, however, that's the strength of Unapologetically: It remains vibrant and fresh even though it sounds measured and mature.

Famous faces Drake, Future, Kid Cudi, Big Sean, Lil Baby, and Skepta also appear, but there's so much quality content to wade through on Slime Language 2 that their turns aren't even the most notable.

Gordon and Nace never followed an obvious path with Body/Head's prior releases, but bringing in Dilloway presents entirely new possibilities that they use with fascinating, often haunting results on Body/Dilloway/Head.

The notion of Kinky Friedman as a reflective song stylist might take some getting used to for some fans, but The Loneliest Man I Ever Met shows he can pull it off better than most would expect, and if his singing is a long way from perfect, the heart and soul are present at all times.

With straightforward readings from the Bordeaux Aquitaine National Orchestra under Romain Dumas, this is highly listenable stuff and one of the stronger entries in the pop-to-classical crossover canon.

It expands their sound, delves into some new sonic textures, and cements Dee Dee's place as one of the more interesting and expressive vocalists around.

McRae delivers on the promise of Think Later, levelling up with this set of addictive pop gems and heartfelt confessionals.

It might not be the best album Vetiver have made, but it's the most consistent and beguiling.

Like Ryuichi Sakamoto's async, Finding Shore seems to find magic in everyday objects and scenes.

Get Back isn't pretty--this is a sloppy, wet kiss of a record that leaves a little sick on you--but it's heartfelt enough to win you over and dangerous enough to wish you had told someone before you got into the car with it, which is what rock & roll in its purest form should be.

Discounting Losing's debt to the past, this is a high-grade garage rock record chock-full of emotionally honest, melodically engaging tunes. It may feel a little too familiar for those who experienced the '90s alt-rock boom firsthand, but those who didn't will no doubt be able to extract and enjoy its vibrancy.

When he sticks with the slide guitar, Martsch's combination of downhome blues and meandering indie-rock is a winning one.

Freeway delivers a strong album that should lay to rest the speculation that his unique vocal style -- alternating between a scratchy crack and an anything-but-gruff shout, filtered through a consistently high pitch -- would have difficulty remaining tolerable across a full album.

Sure, there's a couple of tracks that fall flat - Young Zee and Obie Trice feel strained - but it all flows well, and it's all strong.

It's a little artier than Heathen, but similar in its feel and just as satisfying.

Magic Time is one of those rare, intermittent Van Morrison records that consciously offers a bird's eye view of everywhere he's been musically and weaves it all together into a heady brew.

At this point it seems that Rainer Maria are much more modern rock than emo, but that doesn't mean that Catastrophe Keeps Us Together isn't a good album.

Royksopp remain among the best at middlebrow dance-pop, crafting music that can and will rule the supermarket aisles while still having a shelf-life longer than the canned ham you'll find there.

Jonny's 2011 self-titled debut is a collection of bright, literate, and catchy '60s-influenced pop.

Viers' simple, honest delivery helps to keep the mood fun, yet stable and sweet, without the inevitable sugar rush.

Tiden may be listened to passively and with great enjoyment, but to do so would be to miss its sense of invention and adventure.

Morrison delivers each of these songs with attentiveness; the material is consistently presented with finesse. Nothing further is required.

The songs are definitely there, Phillipps' wonderfully light vocals are as strong as ever, and the sound is a perfect example of how to make a record that sounds as big as a stadium while still being driven by real emotion.

Where it differs from the debut is in lyrics that are heartfelt but deliberately less personal than Me.

Vynehall's DJ-Kicks plays like a set by adventurous college radio DJs eager to show off every record that's been exciting them lately.

The quiet and gently unfolding "18 to 1" stands as the album's prettiest and most tonally pleasing cut, though for the patient listener, there is plenty of magic throughout the set as these two masters intertwine their ample talents.

While the bulk of the album may be less infectious than that tune ["How Could I"] or the record's defiant predecessor, Temple's wonky mix of pop, rock, and hip-hop hooks remains engaging and recognizably theirs.

Hvarf/Heim isn't the album to mark a musical departure for Sigur Rós.

Held in Splendor shows that Quilt are defined, but not confined, by their affinity for the sounds of the '60s. Instead, they're using it in ways that may be slightly more down to earth but also cover more ground.

The next best thing to sitting in on a Sonic Youth jam session, In/Out/In distills the band's essence so brilliantly that fans will fall in love all over again.

Singing, however, is always what Toots has done best, and Got to Be Tough confirms that he takes a back seat to no one when he steps up to the mike, and its arrival is a joyous occasion.

If this is indeed his final offering as a songwriter, it is a fine, decent, and moving way to close this chapter of the book of his life.

While the appealing rawness of their early material is occasionally missed here, the strides forward that the group makes on this album more than make up for it.

Unlike many bands that have tried similar ways to change things up, Hospitality make all the right moves on Trouble, and not only equal their impressive debut but surpass it both sonically and emotionally.

The duo [are] at the top their game, effortlessly weaving the past into the future (and vice-versa) with undeniable skill and refreshing amounts of empathy.

There's a lot to love here, especially on some of the more idiosyncratic offerings like "Airfield" and "Shinrin-yoku," but listeners expecting to bloody themselves in the electronicore, stadium-screamo assault of past outings might want to take a pass.

Where Mogwai's other scores pushed their boundaries, KIN simply restates their strengths--which, fortunately, are as formidable as ever.

The thing that Kurstin brings to the table is a refinement, letting Paul's ideas shine incandescently while also revealing that a record this clever isn't tossed off, it's crafted in every respect.

The lack of variance in tempo across the hour-long sequence makes Heart on My Sleeve downright torpid at points. All upticks are welcome -- the one with an incongruous Kirk Franklin appearance included -- but slow and low is undeniably the singer's forte.

In the wake of crossover dance acts who scored after the success of On a Mission, Katy B remains in a class of her own.

A record of quiet fire, fueled by an electric/acoustic guitar dynamic and the determined waver in Molina's vocals, which have strengthened considerably since Songs: Ohia.

A moody, intense, dramatic, and orchestrated second full-length tour de force.

Macklemore's a mix of all of the above with some distinctive qualities, and with Lewis putting that kaleidoscope style underneath, The Heist winds up a rich combination of fresh and familiar.

He acknowledges and celebrates musical difference, allows for those tensions to reveal themselves inside his music, and creates a dialogue that uses rhythm and harmony as unifying signifiers in his political language. Brilliant.

Much like Deftones, NIN, and Tool successfully coexist alongside their respective sibling projects, Puciato, Eustis, and Alexander have created a refreshing entity to foster an alternative outlet for their emotions and creativity with satisfying results.

It's an aural lava lamp, kicking up slow-bursting explosions of texture and sound.

The album is charmingly pretentious, confounding, and a good time all at once. Closer "Pebbles" is the only song here borrowed from their debut EP, Gothenburg, released six months earlier.

Austra may have traded some of Feel It Break's compelling rawness for a more polished approach on Olympia, but Future Politics' rare balance of poise and intensity makes it their most accomplished and emotionally satisfying album yet.

They are just as vital, exciting, and necessary as they were in the beginning and this record stands with their best work.

It just feels like a lively, deeply felt Pretenders album, one that has better songs and better performances than usual.

Fans will find that Key to the Kuffs goes from confusing letdown to intriguing mystery after just a couple listens.

Even if People or the Gun does nothing to break new barriers musically, fans of their early work will be pleased to hear a return to form.

While Midnight Soul Serenade may not be the best Heavy Trash album (their debut takes that honor), it's still some of the best rock & roll around. Anywhere, anytime.

Once it's clear that anything can happen, the lack of a common sound makes each track an exciting new proposition, allowing the listener to feel a sense of discovery despite the fact that they've been listening to Quasi for as long as two decades now.

Houndmouth have the right touch and impressive chops, but this album makes it clear they needs a songwriter who can make their music seem fresh even as it's modeled on the past.

The cumulative result is a messy, colorful modern pop record that is greater than the sum of its parts.

His ideas are expressed in a far more succinct manner, but they offer similarly powerful commentary, and the album's starkness works to its advantage, driving the tracks' points so they hit home.

It has a similarly big-screen and disparate, primarily beat-less approach to ambient music [as 2016's Under The Sun]. Each track evokes a distinct scene.

Compared to the debut, the songs are a little tighter in structure, communicate more, and bounce from style to style -- whereas Lost & Found presented an evolved, commercially minded brand of street soul -- with introspective R&B always somewhere in the mix.

The style of music being obscure to modern listeners makes this project's viability a good one, and La Llama reveals material of quality from a great ensemble of musicians.

Nude Beach aren't starting a revolution with II, but its well-crafted songs and raw-edged execution are just too damn joy-inspiring to deny.

This is the most pleasing Usher album in over a decade. In terms of ability, agility, and creativity, Usher's vocals still crush the commercial competition.

With the Mountain Goats, John Darnielle has created a vehicle where he finds ways to surprise the listener in fine ways each time out, and Bleed Out is more proof that he's one of the best storytellers indie rock has ever produced.

It's their seamless and agreeable blend of rock & roll, country, and Roky Erickson-style psychedelia, matched with a keen lyrical wit, that makes them fascinating to both sides of the pond.

The soundtrack to the Notorious B.I.G. biopic Notorious is a welcome surprise. Selections from the past (a bunch of old hits plus some wonderfully raw demos) and the present (Jay-Z's infectious collabo with Santogold) along with a hint of the legacy's future (an appearance from Biggie's son, Christopher "CJ" Wallace, Jr.) are sequenced in a way that avoids any of the bombast or misguided majesty of Born Again or Duets.

While Far is far from bad, it doesn't quite live up to expectations, either, based on all the talent involved in making it and how fully Spektor expressed herself on "Begin to Hope."

For her second solo album, the Dresden Dolls' Amanda Palmer slapped together an album-full of songs about Australia and New Zealand to coincide with her 2011 tour of the Australian continent.

All of this is worthy of re-visitation or discovery.

It's hard to argue against the use of the 2009 remasters, as this is the best the Beatles have ever sounded. And not only does this sound good, it looks good, so it's a handsome way to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Beatlemania, although anybody who owns the 2009 boxes in addition to the 2004 and 2006 sets may find it hard to justify another purchase.

Despite its varying sonic proclivities, Modern Ruin is a punk album at heart, but that Carter ends this latest salvo with hope for a better, more empathy-driven future for his child shows that he's capable of more than just mosh pit-inducing invective.

More a gentle expansion than a reformulation, The Mighty Thread should appeal to established fans and other daydreamers.

Ultraviolence thrives for the most part in its density, meant clearly to be absorbed as an entire experience, with even its weaker pieces contributing to a mood that's consumptive, sexy, and as eerie as big-budget pop music gets.

Let's Go Eat the Factory is hardly a triumph, but it's a step in the right direction for Pollard, as well as confirmation that this group of friendly reprobates still has some good work left in them.

It would be unfair to call Black Hours a missed opportunity; even if its glimpses at fresher musical territory are tantalizing, Leithauser carries on the Walkmen's tradition in ways that fans will welcome.

While the album slowly gathers components and rhythmic complexity as it progresses, it remains cautionary in tone and, for Son Lux, restrained.

These songs are ten of his better solo offerings, and they further refine his particular brand of hazy, half-awake beauty.

With the suggestion of metal even peering through from time to time, it's also his most consistently grunge-centric material to date. As usual, though, Maine makes the sound his own, not only with his distinctively weary and wary baritone vocals but with production touches.

Each song is snappy, playful, and stylish, and that's what makes Dancing with Daggers work so well.

The final product is intelligent and often fascinating, but it doesn't deliver like the Afghan Whigs do at their best, and ultimately comes off as a brave but somewhat unsatisfying experiment.

Here, on Blood and Candle Smoke, he's perfected this method of songwriting and learned to record in a completely new way, to boot.

The Drop Beneath is another strong step toward Eternal Summers being a band like Bettie or Velocity Girl, the kind that other bands will look to for inspiration 20 years later.

They're old-fashioned, but in the best sense: they're in it for the long haul, which the superb Warpaint proves beyond a shadow of a doubt.

The album is a bit too pretty and polished for its own good, with the kind of approach that fades into the background at times, but there's no arguing the quality and thoughtfulness that Calder put into this work, and if you like the notion of indie pop as ambient music, then this may be just the album you've been looking for.

A skillful debut by musicians with notable prior credits, they've settled into something intriguing and distinct out of the gate.

While newer production tricks add some kick to DaBaby's formula, stagnant lyrics and monotonous flows present him as an artist unwilling to change; swamped by slushy imitations of his best work, the gems on Kirk aren't given the platform to shine.

If I Am Only My Thoughts is the work of a band already at the top of their game, and anyone looking for music that wraps them in a warm blanket of intricate sound and a calming embrace of restrained emotion could do a whole lot worse.

Immediate without sounding dumbed-down, Mr. Beast shows the band at the peak of their powers.

A skillful balance of harshness and beauty, Discipline + Desire is a welcome reintroduction to a band that is among the best at keeping this sound not just alive, but vital.

Eagulls' density and intensity sometimes border on exhausting, but the album is an undeniably bracing beginning.

Here Come the Tears is what Coming Up would have been if Butler had stuck around: it's cinematic and bright, lush and passionate, halfway between the incessantly catchy pop that wound up on Coming Up and the sighing romanticism and larger-than-life sweep of Dog Man Star.