It's taken awhile for that to happen, but on Picture You, the Amazing have completely come into their own.

Tricky seems to be doing some soul-searching--but the running time is long, and at least three quarters of the album is top-shelf.

By the time closing track "Hachiko" comes in with its softly ambient strains, Empty Estate has wandered through various modes, ultimately coming off like a thoroughly pleasant but unexpected long walk on a summer evening, with Tatum stopping for a moment to say hello to all his various different inclinations for a moment before moving on.

The details of bandmember identities and backgrounds quickly become extraneous in light of the wealth of intriguing sounds presented on this incredibly well-constructed debut.

Most of Lily Perdida is charming--it's like these songs were always within Mitchell's reach, but were buried underneath processing and slower tempos in his earlier work, and they're bursting out here.

The Gate presents Elling at the top of his game; it is a song cycle that is mesmerizing and mysterious as it is provocative and compelling.

The album is a blissful, laser-toned experience where Poxleitner's sweet voice is expertly wrapped in stylish, multicolored hues of fluorescent keyboard squelch and bass guitar shimmer.

Jimmy's Show is yet more proof that Noir is a pop music magician.

Even though Vek doesn't find or offer any easy answers on Luck, its highlights capture the most challenging and engaging parts of his work.

The sounds are by turns troubled, angry, isolated, and wonder-struck in ways that only Hawtin can sound, and Ex adds another mysterious chapter to the Plastikman story.

What gives KIN its weight is Tunstall's craft. Invisible Empire/Crescent Moon proved that she could turn inward and be gripping but by turning that aesthetic inside out—this is an album about embracing the outside world--she's every bit as compelling.

Despite its more collaborative origins, Thanks for Listening plays like a singer/songwriter album from Thile, one with moments of humor, poignancy, dread, and playfulness. Particularly "for anyone trying to hear through the din of a boorish year," it captures the Zeitgeist of the first half of 2017 with a very human touch.

One for the Ghost shows that Astor's creative rebirth wasn't a fluke, and it's good that he's making albums on a regular basis once again.

The rapper's sound moves subtly between modes throughout the album, with touches of fantastical synths on the trap-pop tune "Call Back," R&B undercurrents on the infectious "Tiramisu," and a hybrid of Y2K-inspired pop melodies and simmering old-school radio rap production on "ATM."

Scissor Sisters are record fans from way back, so they structure nearly every element of Night Work to relive the heady days of AOR (aka album-oriented rock).

This is sometimes an aural journey through a labyrinth, but it never sounds like the participants are lost.

It's not so much a return to form as it is a simple return, Morrissey picking up where he left off with Maladjusted, improving on that likeable album with a stronger set of songs and more muscular music.

Funny thing is, most of the best moments on MM LP2 are just as angry, and just as irresponsible, but like "Closet," this is the tortured soul and self-reliance ninja known as Eminem at his very best.

Every Now & Then is the best kind of second album, one that improves on the first one without throwing away any of the elements that made it good.

Dusty is another winning set of pointed observations from Sandman, who effortlessly unloads his thoughts without seeming like a burden on the listener.

Stepping up significantly from the sometimes personality-light commercial sounds of her earlier work, Latto cultivates an atmosphere of palpable Deep South humidity and salacious fun on these songs.

Their performances sound more confident than ever.

In spots, it sags, and a couple tracks seem more like sketches than neatly bundled songs, yet it's one of the year's more entertaining and easily enjoyable R&B releases, fronted by someone who does not take herself all that seriously.

It would still make for a fine, welcome, warming (and occasionally, slightly, chilling) soundtrack to never-ending nights, or any other eternity you might have handy.

They remain faithful to the New Orleans musical ideal in the sense that they turn everything they play into celebratory party music.

Iron Reagan may be kidding some of the time, but when it comes to the music, they're not joking even a tiny bit, and Crossover Ministry will give your ears the swift kick they've been dreaming of.

It's the first truly disappointing album that the band have released and the first where they sound like they are running out of gas instead of hitting on all cylinders.

Ultimately, Saturday Night Wrist is satisfying, though it may take a few listens given all the changes in individual cuts that tend to blur together the first time or two through.

Imitations is a fine collection that reveals the depth of the songs through the openness and considerable skill of the singer.

Even more so than Blunt's previous work, BBF is a difficult, sometimes impenetrable listen, but it's the most powerful statement he's made yet.

In minor contrast to the band's previous effort, the moments of pared-down instrumentation here seem to offer a necessary respite from the intensity, providing necessary moments of calm as we anticipate the next joyous sonic wave.

Ultimately, Tribute to 2 is uneven and fuzzy. When it works, it's lovely; when it doesn't, it's a head-scratcher. This is for fans only.

Additional songwriters and producers, including but not limited to Timbaland, Stargate, Emile Haynie, and Malay, contribute to one or two songs each, but this album maintains a consistency and intensity that places it slightly above the debut.

As it stands, A Thousand Shark's Teeth is beautiful, more than a little insular, and ultimately intriguing for anyone willing to listen closely.

Though his sources remain numerous, this is his most focused, least scattered, and least dilettantish set, and it benefits greatly from its brevity relative to "The Evolution."

Women may not be easy listening, but it is rewarding listening.

This self-titled offering is monster; a masterpiece of tough, psychedelic soul.

Though it is one long cut, Night Gallery is free of noodling or self indulgence; it proves that acid jam is alive and well in the hands of the right musicians.

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

Darker and more mature than any of the band's previous music, Antipodes sacrifices some of the quirky charm of Popstrangers' earliest work and Happy Accidents' firepower for a strong debut album.

The resulting combos that populate these 15 tracks range from inspired to pleasantly odd, and Wells gets points for simply making situations like this album exist. His knack for conveying mischievousness and warmth are in full effect here, with some songs falling squarely on one side or the other but more often than not aligning in combined magic.

Much like its name, Good Nature is well-meaning and polite, but doesn't do quite enough to distinguish itself.

With its mix of intriguing sounds and occasionally underwhelming songwriting, Always Ascending feels more like a first effort than the band's actual debut did. As it stands, it's a somewhat shaky but promising start for the revamped Franz Ferdinand.

Adult Fear is their third impressive album in a row, one that's essential to hear for anyone who likes hazy, trippy, and unassumingly captivating psychedelia.

Sweating the Plague is best taken as a whole rather than in smaller portions; it works as a clever but swaggering dose of rock & roll, and it plays to this band's strengths while showing how much they've expanded their sonic palette in over three decades...or in a single year, for that matter.

It's a record that may require this kind of attention to detail to fully appreciate, but even absent that, All That Emotion is an elegant exploration of soft atmospheres as well as human behavior.

It revisits familiar electro-pop territory while upping the anguish and explicit content. Essentially a set of danceable power ballads about people who get past the bouncer at the club ("You'll never f*ck somebody hotter"), it may have some cringy, bratty lyrics at first listen (catch also "Joyride"'s anthemically delivered "You were in my dreams/Now I’m in your bed"), but, supported by performances, the raw vulnerability is the point.

While Infinite doesn't eclipse any of Mobb Deep's classic recordings, it's a treat for fans and does not dilute the legacy.

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.

The result isn't a muddled mess but another lean and focused set, despite the involvement of several writers and producers.

Not so much a grower as a slow-burning future classic, Forever points to even more exciting things from Holograms as they continue to challenge themselves and expand their vision.

The results should satisfy any post-industrial shaman with warm, slowly developing, and often cavernous synth soundscapes providing the welcoming base.

The Night the Zombies Came is at its best when the band leans into the drama that has always made them stand out from the crowd. "Chicken" is one such moment, a sidewinding mood piece that swings between pride and desperation as wildly as Santiago's twanging, squalling fretwork. However, the album's brightest gem is "Jane (The Night the Zombies Came)."

One thing that remains unchanged, to no surprise whatsoever, is the enduring vitality of the material.

Another fine example of how versatile this band actually is.

Womb's confidence and eloquence proves that a more grown-up Purity Ring still has plenty of sparkle and wonder -- and makes a fine way to round out Roddick and James' first decade of making music together.

Carnival, Vol. 2 strives to give the immigration problem a face, turning those thousands of marchers seen on the news into a thousand personal stories of struggle and hope. It does so while pulsating with life and displaying an unabashed love of music that's rich, daring, and delightful.

Era is another solid album; with the laser-like focus Disappears have, it's hard to imagine them delivering anything less.

All in Good Time is well-rounded and balanced perfectly between punk energy and poppy songcraft. Though Eddy Current Suppression Ring may not have wanted people to make a fuss about their return, it's kind of a big deal and this record is proof of that fact.

Warning may not be an innovative record, per se -- it's a pop album through and through -- but it's tremendously satisfying, finding the band at a peak of songcraft and performance. There hasn't been a better pure pop album since Supergrass' In It for the Money, another record by a young band that did it all and did it without a trace of self-consciousness.

At 17 tracks/diary entries, some of which feel like cast-offs from previous sessions, it feels a little bit indulgent, but maybe, considering the subject matter, that was the intention after all.

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

Seamless yet challenging, All Worlds should appeal to Lust for Youth's more open-minded fans, but the new vistas it opens for the band are what make it exciting.

Common Existence is largely an enjoyable record that gives as much attention to mood and melody as muscle and might.

Wavves sometimes gets carried away--"Neon Balloon" and its sea of synth gurgles and helium vocals is near silly--but when Williams finds his stride and carves the tube of punky psych sonics, the results are totally awesome.

Dulli thrives on atmosphere, and while his inability to write the kind of sharp hooks or memorable choruses that have elevated other semi-dystopian malcontents into the relative mainstream is evident throughout the album, that sense of place makes Dynamite Steps feel less like a collection of songs and more like a long, dangerous, and unpredictable night on the town.

Nearly all of this territory has already been plotted with more detail and flair on Handley and Turner's first three records.

An interesting album, spooky in spots, but other than the terrific "Slow and Steady," this one's a curiosity.

Owing to its themes, Fuckin A is a shade or two less exuberant than More Parts Per Million, but it's no less passionate or energetic.

What the album lacks in ambition and social commentary it makes up for with deep soul.

As displayed on I Am the Last of All the Field That Fell: A Channel, it's also simultaneously holistic, maddening, erotic, bleak, bright, and most of all, visionary.

She pleads, yelps, and croons, alternating between agitation and desperation, and that raw emotion is the true hook on Soul Sick.

Such an intense, sustained focus does mean Positions succeeds in sounding sexy but it doesn't do much outside of that: apart from the title track, few songs stand out as individual songs, the rhythm and productions are all painted in shades of grey, and Grande disappears into the setting of her own design.

While Butler may have the chops to captain his own ship, he'll need to put some more water behind him before he can successfully steer the beast into port.

Mr. Lucky works because Isaak and crew don't overplay their hand.

It's one of the few effective Euro-flavored club numbers to be fronted by an R&B artist. Altogether, this is one of 2010's finest pop-R&B albums -- Ciara's best yet.

The extra flair of random trumpets, strange tape experimentation, and walls of fuzz bass contributed by the rest of the band just add to the colorful wash of sound, up there with the best Elf Power compositions of the past.

Oscar displays a light touch that ensures Cut and Paste is a charming, unpretentious confection of an album, as well as a promising debut.

Stewart is content to work on the fringes of the synth pop underground, and that's the kind of iconoclasm that makes It's Immaterial worth seeking out for fans of the sound who are sick of how omnipresent it seems.

Though Ware co-wrote all the songs and is in full command from start to finish, the album has a stitched-together quality that starts to slowly unravel during the second half.

The Way Is Read's sequencing, which mixes songs and connective tissue, sometimes within and across tracks, has the effect of an album-length work, if one with distinct tunes. Perhaps its biggest achievement is that it so often seems the work of a single group of nine.

Snapped Ankles' wild eyed formula is better taken in one song at a time, as sitting through the entire album can quickly exhaust the senses. Even though Stunning Luxury is an overwhelming blur at times, small doses of its feral excitement can be infectious and even catchy in their own surreal way.

While the balancing act between the Hives' new and old approaches is a little lopsided, making this album less amazing than "Tyrannosaurus Hives," The Black and White Album should satisfy most fans while giving them a few challenging moments to chew on, too.

Bell X1 don't fit comfortably into any of the pigeonholes of modern indie rock: more down to earth than Radiohead; more fun-loving than Coldplay; and too sophisticated to be lumped in with Franz Ferdinand. Bell X1 occupy a niche all of their own, and long may it continue.

Here and throughout Is the Is Are, DIIV reveal themselves as a more thoughtful, more rewarding band than could have been expected from their debut.

The trio dives even deeper into the grooves that drive their music, expanding them and streamlining them into something challenging yet fresh and immediate.

While Black is lucky to have friends as skilled and giving as the Brewis brothers, he brings plenty to Slug, and though it's tempting to think that the Brewis brothers' participation is the main draw here, Black proves on Ripe that he's good enough to stand on his own.

If Lydon's decision to revive Public Image Ltd. seemed curious at first, with What the World Needs Now, the group has a firmly established new personality that suits its leader well, and finds him making strong and engaging music again after many fans wrote him off as a spent force.

Jackie Lynn feels like the audio equivalent of a gripping short story or film, and whether it's a cliffhanger or its own entity, it's an engaging, suspenseful tale.

Listeners who have managed to remain immune to the trio's idiosyncratic brand of "thespian rock" will no doubt find much of Enemy Mine unlistenable. That said, fans of manic melodies, bohemian pageantry, and synapse melting lyricism have no greater modern champions than Bejar, Krug, and Mercer.

A quietly compelling album, this will please not only fans of Hinson's other solo work, but those who were introduced to him through the Earlies and the Late Cord as well.

Overall, while a worthwhile inclusion in Gucci's catalog, Drop Top Wop is most likely to be appreciated primarily by the Wop faithful still hungry after a dizzying seven releases within one year.

Eternal Recurrence is a fine, thoughtful piece of ambient drone-folk that is as challenging as it is assuring.

Regardless of the tack she takes, Nes' music has the vulnerable freshness of winter thawing into spring--particularly on the lovely album-closer "Ruby Red"--and Opticks puts her in the very sweet spot between innocence and expertise.

Refreshingly introspective, stylish, and transparent.

She's in Control is dirty late-night fun simply because it has fun.

What comes across most effectively is the ease that both Roberts and Morrison have with one another. Their vocals settle in together comfortably. That feeling adds even more bubbling warmth to this already toasty disc.

Paranormal isn't the return to form one might have hoped for, but it's no embarrassment either, and Cooper appears to be having a grand time while giving his fans a good show for their dollar.