It's a startling, challenging, and significantly enjoyable debut album.

All of it works, there's plenty of ambition with little over-reaching, and the most striking bits of the album are striking for unexpected reasons.

While Cellar Door will definitely come across as too smooth for certain palates--probably even for some fans of Idjut Boys' more dance-oriented material--it is an undeniably classy affair that's all the more impressive for maintaining a commitment to unabashedly lush prettiness while somewhat miraculously avoiding any hint of schmaltz.

Mostly, Talent works as an overall experience with loads of rich sonic atmosphere, hummable melodies, and artfully restrained emotion. Quite the impressive debut.

Herve Vincenti and Philippe Petit's collective group retains its neo-no wave/industrial clatter on From Beyond Love, again recruiting a variety of guest vocalists track for track to extend the feeling of a decentralized, ever-shifting effort.

While much of Susanna's reputation may have been built on her skills as an interpreter of other people's songs, Wild Dog is a testament to the subtly haunting power of her own music.

Country Funk: 1969-1975 illuminates a brief but fruitful period where genre lines blurred, and both genres benefitted mightily.

The group's atypical instrumentation and inventive use thereof results in captivating if mercurial waves of sound and a listening experience that reveals its complex nature as it goes on.

Babylon introduces a likable pop sheen to the mix that both elevates and homogenizes the end product.

While fans of these musicians' individual projects might not find what they expect on the album, Harmonic will reward anyone brave enough to wade into unfamiliar waters to discover something they probably haven't heard anywhere else.

This collection is proof that Kylie is arguably the best pop singer of her era and more importantly, is fun from beginning to end.

Pujol really shines when he pulls out his protest signs and shares his shrewd, but never cynical, take on modern society.

While Blood Speaks may lack the immediate hooks of its predecessor, it's got longer legs, deeper corners, and attitude to spare.

In terms of popularity, the album is not likely to rival Attack Decay Sustain Release. It's not as novel, either, but it's exceptionally crafted.

As it stands, the album will at the very least provide a better measure of closure to Saint Vitus' turbulent but heroic career than the aforementioned, despairingly pitiful, mid-'90s demise managed to, and the group's important legacy certainly deserves that much.

The decision to rein in the forward-thinking, more ambitious, and colorful musical and textural steps she made on her last recording makes this rather monochromatic affair feel somewhat longer than its scant 33 minutes.

Quarantine is the addictive soundtrack to some kind of science fiction nightmare.

Island Fire wends its way through a variety of approaches, all of which have her own stamp on them first and foremost.

Stunning, and at 17 tracks, surprisingly solid.

Whitechapel is a band that is definitely worth checking out, and with its expansive and devastating sound, this self-titled album makes for a great jumping-off point.

Self Made 2 is an interesting mix of in-house and all-star, and another reason to take Ross the ring-leader seriously.

Not every song is a keeper, but the strong songs carry the less-engaging moments and Mostly No ultimately becomes a drifty summer soundtrack.

A winning, if a little overly earnest, collection of millennial retro-pop that feels like a well-intentioned, if slightly awkward, high five.

Hacienda have made a solid album under his [Dan Auerbach's] direction.

While the album has its share of pretty melodies and even some gently beautiful moments, it's mostly a string of unremarkable songs built on platitudes, searching for reason and resolution but ultimately coming up empty-handed.

While Kiwanuka is extremely talented, his songwriting needs work; some tunes are weighed down by clunky melodic or clumsy lyric turns.

Major feels like the coolest church service ever, devoid of dogma and ritual, and consecrated by the unholy smack of a thousand high-fives.

Even if it's not necessarily the kind of music that would make it into regular rotation, it's inventive and fun, which is more than enough for a project like this.

If such an otherwise emphatic and melodic record is the result of such constant squabbling, then Blood Red Shoes should perhaps start planning their arguments in advance for album number four.

While both the sternly Chassidic and sternly roots reggae factions of his fanbase might find it disappointing, Spark Seeker holds plenty of life and appeal.

Unearth boasts enough charms on its own, offering up ten enigmatic, audio time capsules that strike a winning, oddball balance between the cool, Krautrock sheen of Kraftwerk, the naturalistic, glitch-filled hum of The Books, and the melodious pop stylings of early Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark.

While Jewellery's nimble pastiches and small but palpable emotional undercurrent are missed occasionally, Never is never boring, and fans will have as much fun figuring out what makes these musical wind-up toys tick as Micachu and company had putting them together.

An album that begins as a one-woman cabaret show discussing humanity's past and future and remains the work of a singular voice, one that recognizes that silence is just as vital as music.

As a whole Handwritten has all of the heart-on-rolled-up-sleeve passion that makes the Gaslight Anthem a band that is so easy to love and identify with.

Major feels like the coolest church service ever, devoid of dogma and ritual, and consecrated by the unholy smack of a thousand high-fives.

Though the environment that birthed the appropriately titled Gossamer may be a bummer, the end product is winningly majestic as it is obviously spun by the most malevolent of spiders.

Shrines is a fine debut, full of lighter-than-air synth pop that manages to be dark, sparkling, innocent, and knowing all at once.

Given that Early Birds is an hour-plus odds-and-sods compilation, it's not surprising that it doesn't flow like a proper album, but it does show that Múm knew what they were doing from the start.

Icky Blossoms succeed in showing many different sides of dance-infused indie rock with their debut, but there's an unsettled feeling that suggests the trio members weren't entirely sure where they wanted to go with the record.

Fortunately, all of it's enlivened by Gray's ability to (mostly) deliver strong performances that don't sound like they've been labored over.

For a debut album, There Is a Bomb in Gilead sounds remarkably confident and assured.

The band has a dedicated following and long-term fans will probably find much to enjoy on United We Stand. Those new to the band might find the album's relevance questionable at best.

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

There's a paragraph of informative text for each track, along with sleeve and label scans, to place all of this enjoyable oddness into some kind of context.

Go Outside is less messy than one might have expected from Hot Panda, but that hardly means they've gone slick; now they have the chops to make the most of the pop instincts they've always had.

[Guthrie's] story is presented here in this wonderful set.

Crowell and Karr have written an interesting album here, but it's no Diamonds & Dirt, the 1988 album that is Crowell's best, and an album that deftly straddles the personal and the general in a way this one does not, however intelligently wrought it is.

They grew up strong and they grew up fast, so fast that their recordings retain a visceral force that makes The Complete Beat something more than a dream come true for fans: it is a convincing argument for their greatness.

Mark Knopfler has brought some star power to The Sailor's Revenge, but he's also treated Bap Kennedy's skills as a performer and tunesmith with the care they deserve, and this is a dark but frequently beautiful set of Celtic-flavored contemporary folk.

His first official solo outing (he recorded a rollicking 2009 album under the moniker Lady of the Sunshine) finds the Australian singer/songwriter successfully bridging the gap between bearded Laurel Canyon rambler and bearded indie pop urbanite.

All the selections on this best-of compilation focus on the high-energy side of the music, but that's no bad thing, and it's enough to make a listener sweat just from the speed and breakneck precision of it all -- it's not just father and son who are outstanding, it's the whole band.

The album doesn't have as many slyly powerful hooks as Nostalgia, Ultra, but Ocean's descriptive and subtle storytelling is taken to a higher level.

On a Bedroom Wall is an impressive record from a "joke" band, full of emotion and hooks, which should get them taken seriously by lovers of '80s-influenced sounds done in a thoroughly modern manner.

There are always nuggets to be found on a Proclaimers record, and Like Comedy doesn't disappoint.

For the serious Adams enthusiast, this is a nice bonus to a solid album from the ever prolific, often unpredictable singer/songwriter.

Russell's powerhouse voice is not used to best advantage on the lightly dancing Latin-soul grooves that are Quantic's strength, and so on a number of tracks it sounds as if she's a racehorse being kept to a trot. That's not enough to keep this from being a very good album, but it prevents it from being a great one.

The occasional recorder and kazoo only add to the weirdo charm of this very fine album.

A few listens to Mama confirms that Wells knows how to make a compelling record, but primarily as a producer and arranger; as an artist, she could use a mentor to focus her talents.

Hypnotic Nights still delivers all of the brilliant power pop worship that we've all come to love from JEFF the Brotherhood, and if the album isn't able to kick off your summer, nothing will.

Diamandis is trying to expose the artifice of big-box pop music by using its own voice, and despite the obvious trappings of the concept, she does a fairly respectable job.

The album as a whole clearly values the arrangements and overall instrumental performances perhaps even more than the singing, with numerous extended codas and breaks where the performers stretch out to the full.

Though there are a couple of missteps here, Another Country is a welcome new phase for Wilson.

This compilation won't do anything to make Maus' bizarre intentions more clear or his cloudy legacy more cohesive, but for those already converted, its 16 songs will be essential.

Thought and care are in these songs, and they all fall together in a nice flow.

They haven't lost their uplifting positivity or their restlessly inventive production spirit--they just seem to be missing a bit of that Warm Heart.

If the game needed Illmatic, this is the one Nas needed to get out of his system, acting as a clearing house for all venom and bile, plus some gloss that doesn't fit but needed to go as well.

Between the steady maturation displayed by those ensuing color-coded works and the quantity of songs here, both undeniably infectious and innovative, many more fans are bound to embark on the Georgians' strange, strange ride.

Immaculately produced and performed, I Can See the Future is chock-full of breezy, likable retro-pop that's made for people who like their nostalgia delivered through the wonders of modern fidelity, and while it may put off, at first, those with a predilection for Mandell's darker side, it won't take but a spin or two make them see the light.

Holograms have wholeheartedly embraced '80s post-punk icons like Wire or the Factory Records stable as jumping-off points, but managed to twist the influence into something more interesting than simple homage.

KR-51 is a project where Clare & the Reasons raised the stakes for themselves, and in most respects they've succeeded, with an album that's an audacious and beautifully crafted celebration of their individual creative vision.

When it all comes together, like the play it takes its name after, Tempest is turbulent, dark and wondrous.

Presenting a piece of musical theater as a stand-alone work can be a bit difficult to grasp upon first listen; that said, it does reveal itself ultimately to be a very nearly dazzling endeavor that rewards patience mightily.

All in all, this makes for an album that, despite containing plenty of drama and angst, feels self-restrained by itself, making the whole thing seem conflicted instead of confrontational.

The album is densely dynamic, but never relies on loud-then-soft clichés or screaming histrionics to make any of its points.

While a few of Total Dust's later tracks tend to blend together a bit, the album is never less than pretty and sincere, and it's always nice to hear artists like Borcherdt prove they can do several styles of music equally well.

It is the sound of a band operating from a position of considerable strength: they're confident, assured, even playful, having fun bending the rules and blurring boundaries, eager to please but never pandering.

Aesop sounds stronger and sure after taking this journey, making Skelethon his most rewarding effort to date.

Like an actual confession, this album is equally bold and vulnerable, and all the more real and appealing because of that.

Mission of Burma follow no rules other than following their collective vision wherever it leads, and their musical wanderlust has resulted in one of the most exciting and eye-opening albums they've made to date.

It's a light, breezy affair that seems to take its title quite literally.

While anyone hoping for more of the same old Fear Factory will find a lot to love about The Industrialist, those who have been hoping for something different might find that the album isn't quite what they were looking for.

[Invisible Stars is] a looser, livelier record than Welcome to the Drama Club.

Royal Thunder ultimately sound like no one but themselves.

Gone is a consistently engaging listen.

Spirit Fiction is a confident next step for the saxophonist; its execution and ambition offer a glance at where he's been, but more importantly, a solid look at where he's going.

Landline is cloying, full of soon-to-be-dated production tricks, drab, mediocre songs.

This borders on sorcery.

Rooster Rag doesn't stray too far from the path; it stays right on track, is relatively lean, and amply illustrates all of Little Feat's enduring charms.

Musically and lyrically, it is likely to be among her most enduring recordings.

Despite all the outside input, this is Diplo's show.

It's gimmicky, lightweight, and best taken in small chunks, but get a glitter-friendly crowd together and it gets the party started, succeeding at its one and only goal.

With Gold Motel the bandmembers are wiser, but never weary, simultaneously expanding their sound around their new world-view and fitting it within the candy-pop shell they've crafted so well.

It all adds up to an exhilarating and at times revelatory mash-up of wildly varied flavors, like a really excellent fruit salad.

While some listeners might find the Projectors' rather knowing idiosyncracy off-putting and smug, there are songs here that suggest the band has finally found the formula that finely balances its well-meaning musical intellectualism with actual pop songs.

Jackson may have been cast in the eternal sideman role in Belle & Sebastian, but (I Can't Get No) Stevie Jackson shows without a doubt that he is a pop craftsman in his own right.

Some of the productions, courtesy of the Runners, Adonis, and Kevin McCall, save it from being a disaster.

This work reaffirms her status as one of the leading artists in contemporary folk.