Peppered with swears and PG-13 imagery, not all of Return to the Moon is radio-friendly, but it is ear-friendly, even at its most earnest or wry.

Even if said listener is inundated with shiny, R&B-based pop, as is anyone who has access to a radio or the Internet in 2016, there's something about the way Chairlift operate that helps them to stand out just enough to truly shine.

Maybe Krol isn't cool, but Power Chords shows he's fierce, fun, exciting, and real, and that always means more in the long run.

The 16 songs use a wide variety of stylistic approaches while centering around Durk's lyrical narratives of desperation and survival. While not all of it feels essential, the high points are fantastic examples of the rapper at his best.

Much like contemporaries Sleeping with Sirens and Bring Me the Horizon, they've changed with the times -- for better or worse, depending on the fan -- and the results are no less immediate and impactful.

Top to bottom, this is a coveted no-skips effort, elevated by the fun, liberated approach that helps the listener escape reality and push the limits like the characters in the film.

Free the Bees is all worth hearing, a lot more than once, and it could be the Album of the Year -- the only question is if that year is 2004 or 1968.

A radical -- but successful -- departure, We're Animals might have slightly fewer instantly memorable songs than In My Mind All the Time, but it shows that Numbers are continuing to develop and experiment in ways that make this album exciting in a completely different way than their previous work.

Angel feels like a continuous, slow-motion sunset on a coastline in a dream. It's new territory for Pure X, but when the elements of '70s radio rock and Sunday-morning soul come together, it results in some of their most tuneful moments.

Refreshing, comforting, and accessible, Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. is a fine transition album that points to even bigger and better things for the pop star.

Apart from a couple fumbles, By-the-Numbers turns out to be a successfully executed concept and a very pleasant listen.

Steady never feels rote -- these guys are in love with rock & roll, and their joy and passion is never far from the surface. If a new band made an album this good and joyously pleasing, they'd be hailed as heroes, and don't let the fact Sloan are grizzled veterans keep you from celebrating Steady on a regular basis.

The album is a well-written love letter to yesterday's rock & roll. Though this means the album's sound isn't nearly as revelatory as the sonic assaults of their earlier work, the Men continue to prove that, above all, they're a band that know what they're doing, even if they don't know what they're doing next.

This sounds like a lost Coral album down to every last detail, which means that it seems silly to venture here unless you've at least bought one Coral album already.

Saviors sounds cleaner, stronger, and purposeful, all due to the still-sharp pop instincts of Bille Joe Armstrong. Age may dampen Green Day's roar, but it has also heightened their songcraft, and that's reason enough to give Saviors time to let its hooks sink in.

The singles aren't as obvious as 2008's "Knickerbocker," and the cuteness is replaced by suave aloofness; Ventriloquizzing is seamlessly somber, and all the better for it.

Instead of trying to fit into the past, Van Halen are using their history to revive their present and they succeed surprisingly well on A Different Kind of Truth.

While it's not as diverse as Spanish Dance Troupe or as immediate as How I Long to Feel That Summer in My Heart, Sleep/Holiday is just as lovely and heartfelt, and another fine addition to Gorky's Zygotic Mynci's body of work.

The sameyness is still there, granted, but like [Neil] Young, his spiritual godfather, Mascis has a way of making his ramshackle melodies are downright endearing, and if you're a kindhearted soul, that'll allow you to forgive the half-assed stuff.

As with most of Johnston's albums, there a few songs that just fall flat or come off as a little too coy, but overall, it's a quality addition to the catalog of one of songwriting's true originals.

A diverse, accomplished album that manages to be unabashedly emotional, playful, and ambitious all at the same time.

At Crystal Palace's compressed complexity makes it a more consistent album, as well as proof that the band shows no signs of slowing down or mellowing out anytime soon.

Fans of Led Zeppelin may not take to these stylistic changes well, but Plant's adventurous tendencies are well placed on the ten songs here.

A smashing success that avoids sounding too retro, as Geller's beats sound readymade for roller discos and bedrooms alike.

Despite some tedious melodramatics, Fall Back Open is a decent sophomore effort.

Afrodisiac is Brandy's fourth consecutive durable showing, fluffed out with a few innocuous — if still very listenable — filler moments, but it is stocked with a number of spectacular -- and emotionally resonant -- singles that wind up making for her most accomplished set yet.

This is a comeback record to be proud of; it not only sates the appetite of those fans who felt Linda Thompson left the scene too abruptly, but it is also the British folk record that everyone interested in the genre has been waiting such a long time for.

A collection of songs that are as clever and intelligently crafted as they are danceable.

The bottom line is Troubled, Shaken Etc is an album: paced, sequenced, structured, and produced as such. It's utterly lovely, feminine, and subtly adventurous.

Those two sounds [folk and country] are the best vehicles for the kind of solipsism Mayer engages in on Born and Raised, where he does his best to sound sorrowful and contrite yet manages to stumble upon his own deep-seated desire to remain a lover-man.

This is music made from a band that has been through the wringer and is happy to settle down and play, and there's an undeniable appeal to that open heart, particularly when it's camouflaged underneath such nominally heavy music.

This album expands the very definition of musical collaboration.

Curve of the Earth wastes little time in setting the controls for the heart of the sun with the lead single "Telomare," a big, atmospheric blast of anthemic, mid-'90s stadium rock that segues nicely into the equally dreamy "Bombay Blue." From there things bounce back and forth between the bucolic and the sublime.

Nothing had every element in place to make Guilty of Everything very close to brilliant, a modern shoegaze/noise rock classic; on Tired of Tomorrow, they seem to have lost their way and have made something quite standard issue and disappointing.

When artists reach a certain point in their careers, they can maintain the status quo or they can challenge themselves; Ranaldo chooses the latter on Electric Trim, imbuing his poetic cool with earnest, quixotic charm that makes this some of his most wonderfully unpredictable music yet.

Sure, Max Martin's hooks, and especially Dr. Luke's neon-colored throb push these tunes into your head--they're in top form, aided by the tight focus of an eight-track EP, Cannibal's brevity trumping the scattershot Animal--but what makes them stick is Kesha, a pop star lacking pop star looks and a pop star voice.

If anything, Gloucester County proves that Smith is willing to let his unique style mature, which may at some point provide some insight into one of the underground's most elusive personalities.

These songs stand on their own and bode well for the second album.

All told, Gods of Violence proves well worth the wait. Kreator proves--yet again--that the kids still have a lot to learn when it comes to keeping thrash viable.

As "The Reverend" closes things with another shot of the band at its finest, it underscores that even an inconsistent Eagles of Death Metal album is still a lot of fun.

Confessional and insular, Love Letters is the work of a band willing to take pop success on their own terms and reveal a different--but just as appealing--side of their artistry in the process.

Jourgensen's covers are usually all-party time, but this album holds no hope for and finds no joy in America and expresses it brilliantly.

Though trimmed down from more than a half-hour of unedited movements, the lengthy piece begins to drag almost immediately, and its droning, slow transitions are the only weak spots on an otherwise captivating and sonically rich collection.

The man writes honest, beautifully crafted songs that are adult enough to ponder, tough enough to rock, and tender enough to pull -- not tug -- on the heartstrings.

If "Love and Distance" was the album that pushed the Helio Sequence off the rails, Keep Your Eyes Ahead is the sound of the duo getting back on track.

A headlong rush of an album, Pala is accomplished, bold, and very, very danceable; everything Friendly Fires' debut promised and more.

Women & Work is the sound of a mature, confident band, fully embracing their hometown's musical legacy, and wrapping it inside their own sound, making each both larger and deeper.

There's a palpable sweetness to music that endures, even when a production is as bright and glistening as it is on Shawn Mendes. That bodes well for the future that Shawn Mendes is so evidently planning for.

While the individual songs may not be as fun on average as those of its predecessor, Lines Redacted does drive home the feeling of dissatisfaction while, like a Ramones under the influence, locking into an admirably irreverent, distinctive persona.

Gossip in the Grain is LaMontagne's most adventurous recording, yet in many ways it's also the most focused and well executed.

On these songs, Lopatin and Hecker take the sounds in their intentionally limited palette to places they may never have been expected to go, and the journey is intriguing and frequently lovely.

This is another fascinating and unfashionable album from a band unwilling to cater to anyone's expectations except their own, and thriving because of it.

Not everything here clicks together at that level, but each track is inventive, and when the songwriting and arrangements cross paths perfectly, as they do in the above songs, this is a delightful band.

With Damogen Furies, the results of his strange ways lead to moments of slack-jawed befuddlement as much as awestruck astonishment.

As a whole, the album plays out a bit unevenly, with some distinctive artistic peaks and a few mis-plays made in the name of experimentation. Still, with the long gaps (six years) between each of their releases, it's hard to fault Autolux for making a worthy stab at reinvention.

Narrow Stairs is far from desperate, however, and the album's willingness to steer Death Cab into unfamiliar territory (or, to reference an earlier lyric, "into the dark"), is by far its strongest asset.

The huge accomplishment of Desperate Ground is this ability to grow up some without slowing down; but quite the opposite, the Thermals return to form with this scrappy collection, blazing through serious topics but never dropping the tempo long enough to get overwrought or self-indulgent.

It doesn't rate with the best of Clem Snide, but Bitter Honey is a pleasant diversion and a nice way to fill the space between the group's releases.

As lyrical a musician as he is, without his commanding use of language (the song cycle is entirely instrumental), the BQE loses some momentum near the end, but by then it's become clear that, as is the case with all of his projects, the term "half-assed" does not apply.

After absorbing the record, however, it's clear that the broken, disconnected flow is by design, and Guardian Alien's experiment with structure pays off with another album of mind-bending headphone candy.

No one but one of the most talented and accomplished singers -- one with 16 Grammys, nothing left to prove, and every desired collaborator at her disposal -- could have made this album.

It isn't easy to strike the right balance between ambition and emotion, scale and humanity; White Whale manage it with ease on WWI.

Velocifero isn't as dramatic a step forward as Ladytron's other albums.

There's warmth in Was' production and honey in McBride's voice and if the combination can sometimes result in too-sweet tea, it's nevertheless soothing.

More or less what fans would expect from a Fred again.. album at this point, Ten Days is a diaristic emotional whirlwind with a handful of highlights.

It's just accomplished enough as an amalgam--not entirely groundbreaking but definitely enjoyable as a collective reworking of impulses, with Wexler and a variety of guest players creating an enjoyable little treasure in its own right.

Despite the part-compilation/part-extras makeup, this is one of the year's more enjoyable debuts.

Themes of struggling to overcome depression and drug dependency surface often on Fighting Demons, making it a heavier collection than the sometimes celebratory memoriam of Legends Never Die. It's not an essential piece of the Juice WRLD story, but it's also not without some solid reminders of his greatness.

In its own way, this album might be Lee and Björklund's most balanced and unified work yet; it's certainly a confident journey into uncharted waters for the duo.

Ultimately, with The Age of Fracture, Cymbals turn disconnection and dystopia into danceable fun.

Peacock's organic, sometimes, limpid production makes damn sure that nothing gets in between them, allowing the listener to have a direct, often powerful experience with both.

While those who miss the band's old orchestral pop sound may cavil, Twist Again represents the opening of a promising new path for Bodies of Water.

For those unfamiliar with Parenthetical Girls, it could be the perfect introduction to their fascinating music.

An album that requires patience and willing immersion despite its relatively short length, it succeeds in transporting if not transforming.

Distant Relatives is this African contradiction explored further with hip-hop, dancehall, and by way of samples, jazz, and African music showing the way. It's a royal and a striking reminder of why these two artists have reached legendary status.

It may be a remarkably summery album, but it has enough charm and depth for year-round listening.

Pour Une Âme Souveraine is the best kind of dedication to Simone: it invokes her inspiration rather than attempting to re-create her character.

It's that line between accessible and alienating that MellowHype have so brilliantly walked, making Numbers an engaging album from some of Odd Future's best and brightest.

While every bit as spare as some of his previous work, the slow-motion spaciousness of the album feels more rewarding and lasting, ultimately feeling like a guided journey through one soul's season of heavy times and beautiful resolution.

The most impressive thing about Love is Dead might be that as big as its sound gets, Chvrches never lose touch with the humanity that's at the core of their music.

Less immediate than its predecessor, Let's Try the After still manages to engage the listener with its innovative instrumentation and serpentine melodies, and as a bite-sized sampler of where the band is headed, it more than suffices.

It's an engaging delight that will grow on old fans and likely win Flasher plenty of new ones.

Nugent may not distinguish himself from his influences on Night Vision, but, like fellow guitar slinger Ryley Walker, he couldn't care less. He's only interested in playing the music he likes and growing from what he learns in doing so. In the process, we get a killer rock & roll album.

While Cook's credentials are undeniably impeccable, they don't outshine her talent, and she just keeps getting better.

As with the band's previous albums, Souljacker bristles with pop euphoria and cracking production... but just like those previous albums, Souljacker ultimately falls a bit flat over the course of its extended running time.

It finds Mellencamp at a kind of peak, turning out vividly socially conscious roots rock that works not because of the message, but because the music is seductive and sinewy enough to deliver the message.

Stirring, unpretentious yet powerful, Halos & Horns effectively continues Parton's glorifying of her mountain roots.

It all blends together a little bit too much to be distinctive and, as such, it has a faint feel of product, a slow seduction record for the Timbaland-worshipping hipster set.

In some ways, Riot Act is the album that Pearl Jam has been wanting to make since Vitalogy -- a muscular art rock record, one that still hits hard but that is filled with ragged edges and odd detours.

With an inspired cast of co-producers and guest vocalists, Movement in Still Life takes on electro-funk and breakbeat techno with plenty of room for nods to the kind of epic trance that made his name on dancefloors all over the world.

Everything is predictable and sounds like something Cave has done before. The Bad Seeds' edges are smoothed over by the too-slick production; Cave's lyrics are not provocative or funny or much of anything worth hearing.

Bette is a tasteful album that showcases Midler's expressive singing but avoids her excesses.

You get a lot of elastic, post-punk guitar explorations (à la Mission of Burma)--as evidenced by such standouts as the album opening 'Your Movement' and 'Tremble.' But then just when you think you have the Shackelton lads figured out, the Joy Division-ish 'Soft Heart' comes peaking around the corner.

by Tony Brown, Call Me Crazy underscores his greatest strength: getting the essence of a vocalist across in a mix; but also his greatest weakness: the seeming inability to leave a musical backdrop until it's cluttered to death.

The tone stays consistently buoyant, and a catchy chorus or a tasty guitar solo is never far away.

Songs are allowed as much time as they need, but the album as a whole is economical and right-sized at 11 tracks. This is highly enjoyable weekend music from the underground, nothing more, nothing less.

For a style of electronica (chillout/downtempo) that's grown decidedly dusty over the past decade--even though Bonobo is clearly striving to move well beyond such staid genre divisions, and in many ways succeeding, that's probably still the best place to slot him if you gotta--Black Sands is a welcome infusion of life and warmth.

Dubstep's increasingly Americanized impact can be sensed in the bass wobbles of "Black Nails," while trance's long shadow in turn crops up in "Real Is a Feeling." Not to mention the title and feeling of "Trancegender"--but why not go all out, after all?