It's all pretty smooth, sleek and, for the most part, fairly subdued.

Meltdown is a forceful reminder that there really is strength in numbers, and these six guys generate a powerful sound Ryan could never come up with all by himself.

Their sometimes winding songs seeming more taut than ever.

One Second of Love's main issue is not one of sonic fidelity, but consistency. If the murk of earlier recordings hid some of Nite Jewel's intentions, they also succeeded in hiding slightly forced stylistic leanings.

We Are Augustines have created a record that gives the listeners all the time they need to explore the ideas inside without ever threatening to push them out the door, creating the life-sustaining atmosphere necessary to make Rise Ye Sunken Ships the kind of place you live rather than visit.

Liddle has previously described their sound as "folky gospel music played by a post-punk band," and Shallow Bed's eclectic spiritual nature proves that isn't just hollow talk.

Everything continues to feel heavy.

The album grows stronger as its second half wears on.

Winterpills' All My Lovely Goners is a rich and often quite enjoyable listen.

Ultimately, Strange Land is a bold and successful leap into new and previously unexplored territory for Yellow Ostrich.

Adjust to it being low-key, sometimes background music, and SSSS won't be leaving the average synth pop fan's headphones anytime soon.

Questions of semantics and authenticity aside, Port of Morrow's songs are compelling enough to keep most fans listening and enjoying.

The album creates a nice contrast between the pleasant melodies of the songs and the seething, dissatisfied lyrics that rest on top of them.

On In a Dim Light, Nedry never get as self-consciously slick as many of the bands that made trip-hop so dully tasteful in its later years, but they're still at their best when they're fully in touch with their volatile side.

Prisoner remains one of the boldest statements of intent from a fledgling act this year, and while it will be a little too intense for some, it pinpoints the Jezabels as one of the bands to watch from Australia's thriving indie rock scene.

Though there are a few missteps ... the document's strengths supersede them in a powerful and inviting way.

Breton sound more natural when they let their rock side dominate.

While the two don't always match up exactly in terms of presentation, by the end, Byrne's nerdy rock and Veloso's airy sonnets prove highly complementary to each other, especially in tandem.

Almost every note, lyric, and sound could have appeared on any Weddoes record of the past 20 years or so without any problem.

While Radio Music Society may play better to younger pop audiences than more die-hard jazzheads, this program is so diverse and well executed--despite a little overreaching--it's anybody's guess.

For all the people camping out in the cold, The General Strike definitely has enough fire to keep you warm.

As a starting point for One Direction fan memorabilia, for which it appears there is limitless potential for the time being, this is a perfectly sized, and targeted, collection.

There's no mistaking the more personal vibe here, and on the whole Silent Hour/Golden Mile offers proof that Rossen's songs can stand proudly on their own.

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.

It's a pretty timeless approach that could have ended up sounding tired and played out, but the group's enthusiasm and Cunningham's ability to craft sticky melodies make it sound oven fresh.

In Ghostlike Fading is a low-key debut, full of mellow, worn-in songs replete with extended jams, guitar maelstroms, and harmonicas.

All this exertion leads to an excessively lean album: there's not an ounce of fat on MDNA, it's all overly defined muscle, every element working with designated purpose.

It isn't for everyone; it leaves questions of her versatility as an artist (though at this point in her career, it's not necessarily a priority); but most importantly, it's a singular, uncompromised vision that, in a world where the definition of beauty sometimes seems to be growing more restrictive, will resonate with listeners who prefer to find beauty in unexpected places.

This loose, adventurous collection of songs is more vital than many of the other overcooked projects that Rocket Juice's main players have been involved in during the 2000s and 2010s.

Hype warranted, the mystery continues, and while no kid should write "666" on their forehead before getting their driver's license, Odd Future remains a vital force in the hip-hop underground.

City Awakenings feels like it belongs to the short-lived era when Travis were the biggest band in Britain, but it's still a charming return from one of Scottish pop's unsung heroes.

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.

Free from vague thematic restraints, this volume works as the most immediately listenable and comprehensible of the Nomad Series and stands alone as another strong volume of the craft Cowboy Junkies have been honing for years.

Like all Stew's work, the album jumps easily from genre to genre, but all the tunes are marked by strong melodies and Stewart's dense, literary lyrics.

Our Version of Events is an earnest collection of works by a woman who is as good a composer as she is vocalist, a lethal combination in today's pop music business.

While it's sometimes a little too delicate for its own good, Mountain Echo is still a highly encouraging first offering which proves the Duffy comparisons don't do her any justice.

Oberhofer has imagination to spare, but Time Capsules II would benefit from reeling in a bit -- most of the songs are at least three and a half minutes long but finished saying what they needed to before reaching that time point, and as welcome as xylophone is on an indie pop record, hearing it on what feels like every song is a bit much.

Wreck ain't perfect but it certainly does the Unsane legacy ample justice and should satisfy most fans' hankering for sonic self-abuse.

This is a harder and faster-than-usual album from the group, and yet there's also a heavier element of control throughout.

It's messy, but it sure is pretty.

Much like Prodigy's return to their rave-era prime on Invaders Must Die, it feels a touch forced, but what remains clear is that the Hartnolls still have the ability to make magic more than 20 years after their debut.

Both Lights isn't always completely on the money.

First Serve, the album, is somewhere between the De La producer's fascinating but flawed Psychoanalysis and his entirely purposeful movie-on-wax, A Prince Among Thieves.

Fans who were wondering if Ward's mainstream successes would yield a stylistic sea change can rest easy, as his signature, sepia-tone demeanor, for better or for worse, remains steadfast.

Lostprophets still sound hungry and confident, and when they stick the landing, as is the case with the relentless single "Bring 'Em Down," it leaves a mark.

Even the lesser songs have enough catchy moments to rank Mouseman Cloud up there with any of Pollard's unending solo material from the decade preceding it, but the strongest songs leave one wondering what kind of masterpieces he could construct if he'd just limit himself to one record a year.

Spooky Action at a Distance might be more low-key than some of Pundt's other work with and without Lotus Plaza, but it's still a great showcase for his winsome songs.

Their roots are just that--roots, not anchors, allowing the group to grow, often in unexpected and quietly thrilling ways.

There are a few lesser moments, but they don't distract; Slipstream reveals Raitt at another creative peak.

Vol. 1 is commendable and helps make the album a worthy addition to White Fence's excellently warped catalog.

Black Dice maintain the high experimental standards that made their other records cult favorites, and manage to present their spectrum of squelches in a more focused way than usual, without sacrificing playfulness.

It feels like they've channeled the looseness of their playing on Survival into a willingness to try anything once, and fortunately, most of their experiments stick.

These are slick but straightforward productions that mix a deft synth and drum program studio vibe with a warm, overall earthy vibe.

Admirers of Griffith's earliest recordings will no doubt delight in Intersection as much for its familiarity as the quality of its songwriting and performances.

Stars and Satellites manages to find that elusive balance between workmanlike precision and 3:00 a.m. vulnerability.

Like many remix collections, Dross Glop doesn't flow particularly well, and it's not quite as dazzling as Gloss Drop, but it once again shows that Battles are up for anything.

Thoughtfully crafted and full of melancholic lyricism and quietly desperate romanticism, My Head Is an Animal should appeal to any fan--whether man or monster--of sweet and wide-eyed folk-rock.

Nothing to Do is admittedly pretty one note in sound and subject matter, but the boys deliver it with so much enthusiasm and so many hooks, it's hard to care.

Heartbreaking Bravery is a fantastic slab of meticulous indie composition by all standards, but it's truly incredible in its ability to make almost every statement on the record come off like the last word.

Incredible communication and playing are the strong points of the record, even if the pieces themselves might be too lengthy and punishing to digest in one sitting.

Macaroni is classic Bobby Conn, and much like its crudely drawn cover depicting an appropriation of the classic blue and orange Kraft Mac n' Cheese box, those who like it will love it, and those who don't will likely pay it no mind.

By placing so much emphasis on the stylish ever-shifting surfaces of its production, Little Broken Hearts never quite sinks in emotionally. Norah Jones may be pouring her heart out but it's been given an elegantly detailed sculpture that camouflages her pain.

Two years later, Picture Show proves that the band's flair for writing almost aggravatingly catchy songs is as strong as ever.

There are some moments that hint at that brilliance.

While this album and Dust Lane sacrifice some of his recognizable sound, the possibilities laid open for Tiersen are too intriguing not to pursue.

Even if you don't delve deeply enough into these tracks to unearth all the layers of psychological discomfiture lurking beneath the softly inviting surface, there's more than enough to be gained simply by absorbing the artful unfolding of the tunes at face value.

Pluto is fat and redundant at 15 tracks, but it delivers whenever you desire that purple and woozy, Cudi-meets-Khalifa flavor.

This is as dynamic a record as Benson has ever made, but trades some of the homespun charm and young hunger of his earlier work for a more expensive-sounding studio sheen.

Generation Freakshow is still an impressive return to form from a band whose members sound revitalized and determined to prove they're not a spent force.

The Night the Sun Came Up is a track-by-track success, offering readily accessible bits of dance-pop sass or dance-pop bliss whenever they're desired.

There may not be anything particularly revelatory about June 2009, but it's a nice batch of tunes and anyone who's new to Bundick's work will appreciate this glimpse into the early days.

Diamond Rugs is a lot more fun and less self-conscious than what Deer Tick usually delivers.

The whole feeling of The Shadow Gallery is something that is pretty familiar on the one hand, yet polished and assembled into something strong on its own, surprisingly alive and distinct from the get-go.

An enjoyable creation that, despite its clear roots, has its own logic and general aesthetic.

Evans the Death is a stunning debut that may not change the way you think about indie rock, but the band plays with so much passion and the songs are so good, it doesn't matter that maybe you've heard it (in some form) before.

While not everything works on Let the People Speak, it has enough originality and energy that it bodes well for wherever Clark and Black want to go next.

It's all arranged like a well-sequenced album, with some tracks slightly altered for the sake of maintaining a steady flow. No energy swing is jarring, yet it's no sonic flatland. It suits its purpose with a dark, warm glow.

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.

Suckers have turned in a respectable album of big sounds and strong melodies.

You've got good set track by track, but compared to his Revenue Retrievin' onslaught, which was sorted into thematic sets (Day, Night, etc.), these unwieldy Block Brochures come off as a hyphy data dump, leaving all executive production up to the listener.

Capping it off is the giant, bright soul that fuels "Sidewalk Memorial," and while that's a worthy exit for a project so impossibly huge, everything between the bookends is thrown about.

Grey's voice is much grittier live than on records, it is a catalyst for the band to build upon and they do so whenever presented with the opportunity.

All told, Born Villain is as valiant and exciting an effort as the group has come up with in years.

Listeners willing to devote an hour--rather than a rushed five-minute scan of the first 30 seconds of each cut--to this unassuming little gem will likely want to revisit it again and again.

This is bold pop-rap at an "Arena" level, and while partying like a rock star means cohesiveness takes a hit, Strange Clouds is still thrilling and persuasive.

With Novak's world-class sneer resting on top, this is a good set of bad vibes, and rock & roll malcontents should put this album on their want lists pronto.

Reptar aren't afraid to grow up but they're gonna have fun getting there, and with Body Faucet they succeed in doing both.

Strangeland never really lives up to its mysterious title, as there's nothing on it that doesn't feel willfully nostalgic, but like any good plate of comfort food it satisfies in a way that more adventurous meals never truly can.

Think "winning formula" instead of "formulaic" and you're close to the value of Evolution, which along with Ferry Corsten's equally great WKND makes "trance ain't dead" the unofficial motto of 2012.

What you've got here is basically an excellent soundtrack for reading novels by unhappy authors, or for staring out the window on a drizzly day.

What once was futuristic now sounds nostalgic -- or to borrow a title from another member from the class of 1995, "Brand New You're Retro" -- and that's the appeal of Not Your Kind of People, for better or worse.

A Joyful Noise isn't as raw or immediate as any of the Gossip's earlier albums, which makes it a bit of a grower for anyone attached to the band's previous firepower.

While the world might miss the raw energy and exuberance of their earlier work, the more precise and mature band found on Exister is still as effective, and is definitely one that fans will want to stop and catch up with.

This is a stronger, more mature, and more effective work than one might have expected.

From the first notes of their sophomore LP Dismania, the grime, depravity, desperation, and sometimes fun of [New York City] come through in screaming waves.

While it isn't all great, most of it is, and while this isn't the best way for newcomers to acquaint themselves with Fela Kuti's music, it is an essential document for fans.

What keeps Family Perfume, Vol. 2 interesting even with its dips into overly derivative songcraft is its constantly shifting production.

There's a confidence about the performances on the album that make Go! Pop! Bang! a debut full of enthusiasm and promise that will hopefully ring in the beginning of a bright new talent.