The Man Who Died in His Boat may be a smaller-scale album than either Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill or A I A, but it's no less lovely or moving because of that.

Diehards who have all of Biophilia's singles may not need this, but it's still a fine collection in its own right.

From the opening moments of the trippy, lo-fi intro "From the Sun" all the way to the funky-as-a-Hendrix-ballad closer "Secret Xtians," II takes risks and achieves greatness.

This more open, organic process comes through on the songs, providing E and company with a refreshing amount of creative freedom after the relative confinement of doing a conceptual three-album trilogy.

She's turned in her most mature work and coincidentally some of her most enjoyable.

This classic hard rock production touches every song on IV, and the first half of the record is composed of songs that seem tailored to fit the post-metal sensibilities of the record's sonic texturing.

Lighter and more colorful than North, News from Nowhere begins sleepily and then flits between spacious and cluttered moments, often within one song.

On Afterman: Descension, Coheed and Cambria prove that while they may be more accessible than ever before, it's not for lack of adventure or musical ambition, it's because of them.

Regions of Light and Sound of God is intriguing and quirky; its songs often pose big questions inside informal, loosely developed pop song structures that are instantly accessible yet whose lyrics are often metaphysically elusive.

On Triple Beams' marriage of the Dead Milkmen's irreverence and Wire's brilliant, repetitive simplicity makes the album one that will definitely scratch the itch for any punk fan, and will make a quick fan out of anyone not already on board with Tyvek's grinding punk goodness.

A timely holiday stocking stuffer for the aging mosh pit veteran in your family, but not exactly mandatory listening for everyday metal heads.

The occasional burst of incredible, disposable pop goes a long way, but sadly not long enough to make Christopher an entirely engaging experience.

McCombs and crew have painted a portrait of endless highways, ghost towns, and sunburnt moments of ecstatic possibility.

Short-sighted as the party-hearty concept may be, the unbridled enthusiasm makes the album a helluva lot of fun even for those who have trouble relating to wasted youth.

While overall, I Am Kloot's sixth album reads like a heartfelt and stylized ten-chapter celebration of classic pop--with the opening half consolidating Bramwell's position as one of England's most unjustifiably overlooked songwriters--it's only a minor disappointment that four of the final five chapters included here sail dangerously close to pastiche.

Based on the soul-satisfying evidence of Feeling Mortal, one can only hope there are many more.

Compared to that album's [Sirens' Call] half-hearted songwriting and rote sound, Lost Sirens positively shines--leading to the customary questions of why this material didn't replace several, if not many, songs on the original Sirens' Call.

Some of his finest and widest-ranging music yet, In Focus? offers charming proof that a more accessible approach doesn't necessarily spell creative death for a musician, especially one as freewheeling as Tokumaru.

Light and pleasant, Run for Cover is also backed by a band that knows how to accompany all this vocal loveliness.

The endlessly bending array of guitar tones that make up Yeah Right still sounds raw and unrefined, trying to lock its unwieldy buzzing and blurring in with Everton and Garcia's gift for pop melodies. While the record isn't without its moments, these warring elements often do more to obscure than complement one another.

The way Buke and Gase pull together no wave's sense of texture with dance-punk's ear for rhythm is impressive enough, but the cohesion and approachability of General Dome are really what make the album.

There aren't a lot of bands that can pull off making something so quiet and unassuming but with as much emotional pull and drama as The House at Sea. Amor de Días do it with ease.

The Wagons have a strong track record of their own but there's something special to Expecting Company?; when paired with other singers, the overarching vision of Henry Wagons stands out clearer than it ever has.

Musically, Hatebreed sticks with the blueprints that they used to build previous outings like Satisfaction is the Death of Desire and Rise of Brutality, but there's an impressive sense of workmanship to Divinity of Purpose that suggests a steady diet of more traditional metal.

Though Burnt Up on Re-Entry trades a little of his earlier work's singularity for a more flexible approach, it shows Sweet can defy expectations, and should pique the interest of anyone partial to metal's more experimental side or post-rock's heavier side.

Ultimately, Get Up! earns its titular exclamation point as a successful combination of two talented veterans feeding off each other's dusky, creative spirit.

Candela works well as an entry point into Pierce's earlier music as well as a summation of how artfully he blends electronic, indie, and global influences.

The depth of the songs passes by unnoticed for the first several spins, but a world of strange detours and unexpected emotions is right below the surface.

What Monoswezi have created is a unique and intriguing fusion, and this album barely scratches the surface of possibilities. Where they take it will be fascinating.

Target Earth is not only better than we had any right to expect, it's relentlessly creative, inspired, and manic.

While the Kolars may lack the vocal pyrotechnics of their obvious influences, like true thespians, they have the moxie to make even the most mundane moments seem exciting, which supplies more than enough firepower for the aptly titled Nobody Dances in This Town, a notion that they obviously intend on remedying.

Sudol's expressive voice (both sonically and lyrically) and her tasteful and innovative arrangements help to steer the narrative into more abstract realms than one would assume upon simply reading the press release.

A solid, if a little subtle, debut that promises great things while delivering many very good ones.

This may be a flashback to the sound of a decade prior, but after getting so far away from their metal roots, most fans will agree that this balance of creepy ambience and pummeling riffs is a welcome return to form.

The amount of growth is staggering, and moving from the hazy-headed territory of older Ducktails to songwriting this polished and still pulling it off speaks volumes for the purity of the project's development, as well as Mondanile's refreshed vision as an artist.

While longtime fans might be a bit perplexed by the shift, they will find plenty of familiar ground to cling to as the record plays and the smartly written and tear-filled songs follow one after another.

Local Natives' sophomore effort, 2013's Hummingbird, is a more atmospheric and introspective collection of songs in contrast to the band's effusive 2009 breakthrough debut Gorilla Manor.

Even if they quit after this, the album will stand as one of the best duet records of the era.

With Stones, Gustafsson and Stetson have encountered not only one another in a magical way, but they communicate the power of beauty itself.

Never bland, the Daredevil Christopher Wright rise from good to great when they let their freak flag fly and allow their true weird personalities to come out.

Perhaps what's most interesting about the album in the end is how something that theoretically consists of dated approaches in its bubbling mix of electro-rock and '70s dub and more seems to suit 2012 just fine, a sleek collage no more out of place than any other number of similarly backward-glancing efforts around the globe.

Occasionally, Callers' sheer prowess on these songs is almost overwhelming; but though Life of Love's relative restraint made it a more accessible on first listen, Reviver unlocks even more possibilities for the band.

True Hallucinations is an impressive debut and one of the purest, most innocent-sounding pop records anyone is likely to make in the ironic, convoluted era in which they exist.

The glinting "Glue" and well-titled "Snap" excepted, they [the nine remaining tracks, all instrumentals] lack the muscle of Chung's earlier releases, but they're more evocative--detailed enough to withstand numerous plays whenever comforting, if downcast and unobtrusive, abstract hip-hop is sought.

The opposite of a sophomore slump, Wash the Sins Not Only the Face is sleek and spectral, and finds Esben and the Witch casting their spell even more successfully.

Despite Nightlands' scientific approach, Oak Island doesn't sound sterile or too calculated; instead, Hartley revisits the innocence of the past with sophistication, like seeing the places you went when you were 17 with new eyes.

Complete and correct, Goldenheart is a triumph.

When all the songs are put together, it adds up to an album that's easy to enjoy.

Everything on this impressive outing fits together like honey and smoke in a warm but vibrant Texas breeze.

It's another impressive album that shows Haden to be a truly talented singer and vocal arranger, and one that fans of movie music done in a non-traditional fashion should find quite interesting.

True North shows flashes of their earlier work, and is a step up from their last album, 2010's The Dissent of Man, in terms of aggression.

There's too much going on in every individual song and, at 17 cacophonic tracks, Adam Ant Is the BlueBlack Hussar in Marrying the Gunner's Daughter is simply way too much to take in at once...and yet, that's precisely its charm.

In the end, however, the album's coherence comes in its incredible architecture of all these ideas, and the way the band sells them with everything they've got, taking what could be incredibly obtuse music back into the realm of pop from which it was born.

Almanac proves that Widowspeak can embrace more traditional sounds without feeling stuffy, as well as make music that's much more eclectic than might have been expected.

Depending on your predilection, it will either bore the crap out of you, pass on by like a rest stop without a vending machine, or reignite the flame for a band that has always celebrated, as Lowery sings on 1989's "All Her Favorite Fruit," the "fecundity of life and love."

Wolf's Law, the second studio album from The Joy Formidable, finds the Welsh trio building upon its already gargantuan sound with remarkable aplomb.

Ultimately though, whether robotic or human, binary or organic, it is Ra Ra Riot's gift for addictive, romantic songcraft that gives Beta Love its heart.

It may not be the most immediately exciting album of his career, but it is the most impressive and affecting.

Ultimately, My True Story is a smooth, mostly laid-back, and soulful recording by Neville.

It's fascinating to find that his dogged research has loaded these self-penned pieces with all of the mystery, language, and myth usually found in years-old traditional ballads.

Much like the best of Eno's ambient work, Centralia is captivating without demanding attention, instead letting the listener wander into its web on their own.

The themes are vague enough that they could be applied to any number of relationships or situations, and far more captivating are the arrangements and dynamic shifts in orchestrations that make up the cyclical nature of the album.

It spans decades and styles but it's held together by Tarantino's vision, not unlike the film itself.

McKeown's seventh studio album is as bold and determined as anything in her repertoire, but it never sacrifices musicality for message, resulting in a taut, compact, and engaging set of 21st century urban folk songs that invites the listener into the fold before unleashing its directive.

While there are some changes in pace here and there--the quicker, tenser "The Promise"; the piano-led title track that concludes the album; the short, fierce instrumental "Easter Island"--generally the album is a bit of a blur, shifting moods here and there without fully distinguishing itself track by track.

If you can get past that feeling and embrace the polished, shiny surfaces, and satin-jacketed AOR clichés, then Love Sign delivers a pleasing dose of nostalgic, good-time (almost) rock & roll.

Depending on the vantage point, it's either a logical progression or a creative dead end.

In the end, A$AP Rocky comes off as rap's Jim Morrison, offering an accessible, attractive, and brutish journey into darkness while remaining true to his spirit.

As it stands, the album is a decent attempt at a fresh start that won't put off too many Girls fans, but until he figures out exactly what kind of singer/songwriter he wants to be, won't likely earn him too many new fans.

Lady from Shanghai intrigues more often than not, and shows that Pere Ubu can tap into paranoia, loathing, and the downright weird with nearly as much ease and eloquence as they did almost four decades before.

The album is sometimes languid, often jittery and beaming, but mostly an almost subconsciously storytelling collection of moments that would be boring and forgettable if they weren't captured in songs so accidentally perfect.

Fade is rich with details and grows richer the closer one looks.

On their Dogs Eating Dogs EP, blink-182 return as a deeper, more mature-sounding band.

Wretched & Divine is a solid album of neo-hard rock that might just be the thing your inner Crüe fan has been looking for..

Blood Oaths is perhaps the closest to plainclothes Wooden Wand has come.

The band certainly throw their arms wide open in welcome, crafting the laboratory-perfect, good-time emo-country-pop hybrid experience that'll sound very good blasting out of rag tops and 4X4's, if not a moody teenager's bedroom.

Strangely, III doesn't sound like the work of a band at all.

An album that's already brimming over with personality thanks to the chemistry between the two rhyme stylists and their ability to bring out the most inventive sides of one another.

Despite a couple of minor missteps, this album is a masterpiece.

The more adventurous shifts in style aren't without merit, but feel more curious than exciting.

Entertainment and enrichment are provided unsparingly.

The 2012 debut is a pretty accurate throwback to the sound of golden age East Coast rap, complete with soul samples and boom-bap beats.

A lamentable debut all round.

A relatively calm, collected, and breezy set of 21st century folk songs that prefers subtlety over novelty.

It is pure artistic id, and after hearing it, it's possible to view Rossiter's entire body of work in a new light, gaining an appreciation for his grace, wit, and artistry.

If it's not wholly satisfying as an EP, blame that entirely on how it winds up showcasing promise: hearing it, you want to know what How to Destroy Angels will do over the course of a full album.

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

The rest of the album follows suit with an energy that mixes in just the right amount of mirth, mayhem, and maudlin, making Signed and Sealed in Blood an album that's sure to please Murphys fans both old and new.

Clever, eerie, and beautiful, Berberian Sound Studio is the perfect accompaniment to a film that examines the nature of fear and sound's part in it, and it's wonderful to hear Cargill continue Broadcast's legacy with a project so tailored to their strengths.

This is a promising prelude to Solange's third proper album.

Drones is a necessary acquisition for anyone interested in Muhly's work outside pop.

For those who like their electronic music clearly defined, it's a hard sell, but Synthesized is an easy recommendation for those who appreciate Junkie's skill and/or any witty genre-jumping around dance-pop.

This 2012 overview of Laibach has eight extra years to cover, and with one bonafide career highlight occurring during that time, the absolutely epic "B Mashina", which was a key feature of the Nazis-on-the-moon, dark comedy film Iron Sky.

Just by its sheer size, a box this mammoth isn't for everybody but The Complete Columbia Album Collection restores warmth, heart, and mess to an artist whose legacy was turning into a monochromatic myth.

Our Head Technician has delivered an accomplished album for Ghost Box that only serves to enhance the well-deserved reputation of both parties.

Despite the amount of new material, some of which is not up to par with the earlier smashes and certain album cuts, this is a handy sampling of Girls Aloud's biggest moments.

It's lengthy, but anybody who was ever wondering if there was more to 10cc than the well-worn hits will find a rousing affirmative answer here.

This is a step forward from the MC's previous effort, but it's been six years since the he has made an album that must be heard.