This one doesn't leave you feeling hungry or stuffed, just fully satisfied.

Get In finds Rehberg stretching the Pita sound into more graceful territory, but he hasn't lost his flair for the unexpected that made his work during the '90s and 2000s so visionary.

Despite the flares of inventive arranging and limber songwriting that flash from time to time, Boo Boo is the first Toro y Moi album that doesn't work overall, the first to feel like product instead of artistic expression.

For an album that thinks big, Escapades avoids being a sprawling mess, as the songs are incredibly focused and immediate, never trying to stuff too many ideas in, and never overstaying their welcome. It's far more mature than the harsh electro-house of Waters of Nazareth-era Justice, but it feels like a return to that level of creative inspiration.

While the songs themselves are more uneven, Pillow Queens' sound is fully formed, with tracks including opener "Be by Your Side" hitting on all cylinders.

Equally poised and unpredictable, Some Like It Hot's poetic, mischievous, raucous, and heartbroken songs come close to a definitive statement from a band in constant motion.

[An] impressively diverse album.

Often, country memories can get maudlin, but Willie and Merle are filled with good humor here and the pair often strike a delicate balance of fun and sweet melancholy which gives Django and Jimmie a soulful lift.

Cause I Sez So is clearly David Johansen's album, and it's a great showcase for one of the great rock singers of his generation. But is it the New York Dolls? Well, that's what it says on the front cover, and if the sound is different, the "Whatsit to You?" spirit of this set is as keen as ever, and that counts for a lot with these guys.

Fin Eaves' mix doesn't have anything in it you haven't heard before, but you've never heard the elements put together like this before, either. It's a powerful, massively textured thing whose heavily treated grooves (yes, grooves) are drenched in ambiguous, deeply poetic beauty.

This record is both a note-perfect summing up and a great introduction to the Young Guv universe.

It's hard to tell what Smerz are going for on this perplexing mess of an album, but there's clearly a lot of potential to their ambitious fusion of modern classical, R&B, and experimental club styles -- they just haven't made their vision clear yet.

By the end of Anti, Rihanna may not arrive at any definitive conclusions about her art but she's allowed herself to be unguarded and anti-commercial, resulting in her most compelling record to date.

The album is full of the complex love songs and working-class vignettes that McKenna is so good at... [filled] with McKenna's usual grace and subtle poetry.

With that as an unavoidable comparison point and baseline, as can be heard again on songs like the title track, Time Travel is still a pleasant album, where what comes out more are the moments of variation on the form than the form itself.

The ambient stuff is nice, too -- different than what Fruit Bats fans are used to, perhaps, but proof that Johnson knows how to stretch his legs without losing his balance.

Covering such a cherished and well-respected body of work is a brave move, and while Gilmore was always going to struggle to make these iconic songs her own, John Wesley Harding is a valiant attempt to respectfully add a slightly modern sheen to the 40-year-old record, which should silence any Dylan aficionados waiting to cry foul.

The nostalgia and artistry will take you back and warm your Coogi-covered heart.

If Thomas set out to prove that Rocket from the Tombs is his idea and he can reassemble the components at will and still make it work, Black Record does just that, and suggests this project has a livelier future than most anyone would have imagined.

While it doesn't break any new ground (for the most part), All These Countless Nights is an enjoyable listen for fans of radio-friendly hard rock that plays it safe.

Recorded live in the studio with Jay Ruston (Steel Panther, Anthrax, the Donnas), the sprawling 15-track set, which clocks in at just over an hour, can feel a little unruly, but there's more than enough meat here to make a proper sandwich.

New cuts like "Real Love" and "Velvet" add depth to the album, and suggest there's more to the band than skillful pastiche.

Regardless of a stumble or two, Asking Alexandria is well worth a listen. While The Black was a passable offering at a time when it seemed like it would be a permanent arrangement, this reunion simply feels right.

As fine as Didn't It Rain was, This Too Shall Light better illustrates the diversity and power of Helm's abundant talent.

Few bands have the courage to trust fully in it and/or in their ability to not only maintain but give heart and texture to it, but Cave do, and the result is riveting. Allways is their warmest-sounding record to date, and its Delphic charms are a pleasure to get lost in.

Guitar slayers notwithstanding, Nobody Told Me is a hallmark Mayall date, chock-full of great songs and performances that underscore his considerable (and well-deserved) reputation.

Shifting perspectives as it changes colors, Deluxe Hotel Room is proudly, almost defiantly urban; the songs are concerned with a decaying relationship and the production is sophisticated, purposely blurring lines between styles and eras.

This is not a straight-up electronic record, nor does it resemble the polyrhythmic Afro-pop confections the Atlas Mountains have become known for. Instead, Marry has crafted a more personal and cohesive pop album with an engagingly homespun feel that is quite refreshing to listen to.

As ever, the band's music finds common ground in varying styles and coheres into a singular whole, coming together with a purpose to uplift and celebrate.

A welcome evolution from the debut, Astro Tough's lingering inconsistency is part of the fun.

W isn't as rousing as its predecessor, but it may be an even richer album; in its own way, it's just as audacious.

Songs like "18 Wheeler" and the relationship laundry list "Boys (That I Dated in High School)" are surprising winners on an album that feels like it probably should be written off.

Like the previous album, Volume 2 would suffer under the weight of its own pastiche if it weren’t so darn endearing, filled as it is with call-and-response vocals, studio reverb, sweeping orchestrations, and other bygone tricks of the trade.

Like each of their previous releases, Making a New World is an ambitious, original, and exquisitely crafted work, full of rich details and compelling songs that translate the past into modern new shapes.

It's a good-time record designed for daylight and, after the murky Turn Blue and its ensuing hiatus, it's refreshing to hear the Black Keys step out of the dark and into the sunshine.

Departure Lounge has forged an enchanting record to tune in, turn on, and drop into.

Final Straw is another strong slab of emotion and invigorating energy from a solid band that mixes its influences into an always heady sonic libation.

If anything, Clones puts an end to any thought that the duo randomly selects a track from their beat bank when collaborating, since it ably demonstrates how their skills can adapt to any conceivable personality.

Bianchi may be as gloomy as ever, but after moving from California to Texas and from Tiger Style to Mush Records, Her Space Holiday maintains its lush IDM-powered indie pop.

It's filled with sophisticated yet welcoming changes in texture, dynamic, and form/genre that seem effortless, not forced or idiosyncratic for its own sake.

With songs this strong, it's an easy album to keep coming back to.

The Diary of J Dilla might not rival its maker's best output, but it's a pivotal and illuminating chapter, even when heard out of sequence. Just as importantly, it fulfills the wish of a master musician.

No matter how unexpected the combinations, OUÏ is always utterly charming, and one of Camille's finest reinventions of tradition.

It's a hopeful end to an album torn between the pain of loss and the celebration of the times they shared.

Sub Verses offers such a disciplined sense of exploration, multivalent nuance, and commitment in its production and performance; it stands out in an already very distinguished catalog.

Blue Lights on the Runway is one of those rare albums that you can pretend to like for its alt-credibility while secretly just enjoying it for the hooks.

On Falling Off the Sky, the four individuals make strong, intelligent, and well-crafted pop music that's significantly less wiry and more thoughtful and mature (for lack of a better word) than the records they made in the 1980s.

Ultimately, III is some of Föllakzoid's most confident work yet, and a testament to their ability to be heavy and atmospheric at the same time.

By the nature of its content and assemblage, there's not a lot of flow on A Folk Set Apart and some of the tracks might have best been left behind, but there is enough strong material here to attract new fans and provide longtime listeners a deeper look into McCombs' curious world.

At this point, it's impossible to imagine them topping themselves; an album that is merely deeply engaging and wildly entertaining cannot be considered a flop in any way.

If the Go! Team can make a record this much fun, with this much style and skill, with this many well-chosen collaborators, and with this many hit songs every couple years, by the time they are done we'll be voting them into the Brilliant Pop Hall of Fame.

Life Among the Savages isn't the easiest Papercuts album to love, but over repeated listens the mood the restrained sound creates and the subtle emotion the songs convey are more than enough to win over anyone who decides to stick with it.

"Blue Deal" is much more easygoing but still intricately arranged, playfully juggling drum breaks and James Brown samples into a funky audio puzzle. Not every track on Second Language keeps up this level of curious energy, but its most exciting moments are concentrated bursts of sheer otherworldliness.

Not so much a retreat as a celebration of what Sleigh Bells do best, Texis' finest moments thrive on the razor's edge between sweetness and annihilation.

Revitalized, Bush is reborn with The Art of Survival, an essential late-catalog installment that re-energizes their sound with fresh tricks and newfound purpose.

The way he blazes through so many songs in such a short space is a little overwhelming, but Cloud Nothings is a solid step forward for Baldi as he gets ready for what comes after teenage wasteland.

More of a well-crafted showcase for Benson's always strong tunes than a greatest-hits collection, You Were Right feels like a proper album and meets the same high bar set by his previous work.

It could be argued that Brooks trades intensity for pleasure on The Grand Tour, but as the album moves from dazzling to serene and back again, he sounds more assured than ever.

The truth is that Ellipsis is a pleasingly efficient album that never sounds incomplete or labored. If anything, Biffy Clyro have discovered new ways to boil down their more complex thoughts and emotions into snarling, meaty pop slogans.

A pitch-perfect blend of Black Heart past and present, and a recording as accomplished as any that navigates similarly dark seas.

Beach Fossils may be very 2010 but they aren't just along for the ride, they're driving the bandwagon.

The various elements of grueling, confused rock nihilism and clear-headed spirituality result in some new kind of cosmic punk, existing on a strange galactic plane somewhere between chaos and enlightenment.

Undying Color seems like a strange experiment at first, but it ends up being one of the most enjoyable releases in the Mind Over Mirrors catalog.

There are a few other bands treading this same sonic path (Omni being the best around), but with Offers, NE-HI show they have what it takes to compete.

It doesn't hurt that these moments of unfiltered introspection are matched with infectious, uplifting melodies. Working with longtime executive producer Malay (Lorde, Frank Ocean), as well as collaborators like Jennifer Decilveo and Jesse Shatkin, among others, Fletcher coalesces all of the atmospheric vaporwave and clubby electro-pop that marked her previous work.

Dirty Jeans and Mudslide Hymns shows that John Hiatt is well served by a more hands-on production, though one might also imagine Kevin Shirley isn't necessarily the best person to do the job.

The Light the Dead See [is] not just an exciting meeting of troubled minds, but a well designed full-length, offering a persuasive rainy day soundtrack that works even when there's not a cloud in the sky.

La Futura is the best album from ZZ Top since that '80s landmark but it flips Eliminator on its head, using synthesized elements as accents, not as a skeleton.

Remarkably, Turbines makes the right choices at almost every turn, never meandering or spending too much time indulging one idea but instead leaving just enough unsaid to keep drawing the listener back.

A record that's not only easier to enjoy than most of his solo records, but also stronger song for song than many of the early Eagles albums.

While the pieces that put the orchestra at the fore are the most dazzling, Central Market is a tour de force that only grows more fascinating with repeated listens.

You could single out any song on the album for praise or inclusion on a killer summer mixtape and you wouldn't go wrong... this album is one of the sleeper picks for best-of 2011.

While not as immediately accessible as the all-star run of their first three albums, WE will at least be a course-corrector for fans still alienated by Everything Now and the underrated Reflektor, a satisfying journey that realigns the band's heart and soul.

If Stuff Like That There isn't as revelatory as Fakebook, it's a splendid, beguiling album that's perfectly suited for late nights and rainy afternoons, and a welcome reminder of one of the many, many things Yo La Tengo do so well.

Conceptual plots aside, this is an album that finally lives up to the heavy metal promise and unapologetically delivers the goods with a full head of steam.

At its core, it's moodier than most of his records.

A deeply satisfying hard rock record.

Good Bad Not Evil isn't a major leap forward for the Black Lips, but it shows their sound is slowly but surely evolving, and they still rock with a nasty enthusiasm that's bold and compelling; this is quality stuff for your next black light party.

He's not flashy yet he's not boring, he's laid-back and assured, a modern guy who knows his roots but is happy to be in the present, and it's hard not to smile along with the guy as he sings.

Nobody else creates contemplative bass music quite like Mala, and Mirrors sounds fresh and inspired.

This album is a trippy, spooky delight.

Most impressive about The Wack Album is that The Lonely Island manage to get their jokes across without feeling like they're making fun of rap which, given how much material they'd have by making fun of themselves, would really be a last resort.

As the value of Cole's witticisms, and the intellect required to decrypt full meaning of his verses, continues to be debated, the increased strength in his clear-cut writing evinces promise of greater work ahead.

Complain that they're stuck in a rut or praise that they're still able to do it convincingly, because this album gives up evidence to support either argument.

Don't even let the bittersweet-bearing haters know that Posner and Kweli's great freedom overspill is sweetly delivered over a beat from the late J Dilla, but when the other key tracks come from tearing down fear of the Illuminati ("Wormhole") and the almost always iffy category of rap-rock ("Demonology" with Big K.R.I.T. and Gary Clark, Jr. stomps and groans like a Led Zeppelin song), Gravitas becomes an album where anything can happen and often does, as long as it's genuine.

Total 15 demonstrates Kompakt's reliability as well as its unpredictability.

Part singer/songwriter folk, part 19th century chamber song (one track is called "Tone Pome"), and part ambient score, the album arguably climaxes with the theatrical "Wash It Away," which most dramatically combines all of the above -- although the elegant, tonic-shifting, harp-accented closer, "Maya, Please," also does little to readjust listeners to the material world.

It's clear that Superorganism know exactly what they are doing at all times, slicing and dicing like master chefs, then reassembling the bits and bobs of pop ephemera into a concoction that has a sugary kick sweeter and fizzier than an ice-cold cola.

The bare-bone production combined with the relentless march of songs gives Stadium Arcadium the undeniable feel of wading through the demos for a promising project instead of a sprawling statement of purpose; there's not enough purpose here for it to be a statement.

Summer in Abaddon is an album of small, but hardly insignificant pleasures, and it may be Pinback's finest work yet.

It's refined and focused, but also sexy and intimate.

There's every chance that Laura Marling will get lost in the shuffle as the unexpected commercial success of Feist's The Reminder leads major labels to unleash hordes of similarly talented female singer/songwriters, but Alas I Cannot Swim is far better than the average coffee house-endorsed girly pop.

Nash Kato and Eddie "King" Roeser are taking everything dead seriously, playing for the sake of music itself, giving Rock & Roll Submarine an unexpected soul and heart that makes it a rousing comeback.

Kinsella's lyrical wit is still affecting, displayed in both song titles ("Howdy Pardoner") and his always honest, direct lyrics about relationships ("Let's cut each other's strings/Give me a hand if you understand").

Volcanic Sunlight, despite its sharp contrast from Niggy Tardust, is an absolutely fitting follow-up; it's Williams once more wriggling out of preconceived notions by subverting them entirely.

We'll Be the Moon doesn't always hit the mark, but it's an encouraging first offering proving that Fixers can walk the walk as well as they talk the talk.

Since he's not a world-class performer, most classical fans won't find music of interest here, but Solo Piano II is an engaging record with a personality all its own.

All told, Innocence finds Pontiak in a place both refined and vividly experimental, reining in their unhinged psychedelic guitar blasts and mind-melting production with some of their most nuanced songwriting to date.