In a Mood is an unassuming treat of an album, and Okely proves himself to be one of the top modern practitioners of this very old, very tired-in-the-wrong-hands sound. In his hands, it feels fresh and vital, as the album is as good as anything that came out in the first wave of soft rock.

Running a leisurely 75 minutes, Threads doesn't seem sequenced so much as unedited; it's as if instead of finishing the album, she decided to dump every track out into the marketplace. This makes for a somewhat somnolent record, but it's better to think of it as not a complete meal but rather a buffet that contains something to please every palette.

The whole set affirms the band's continued relevance with a clear sense that they're having a ball with their past and influences while linking with another cohort of homegrown talent.

Green Day have nothing more in mind than righting their ship, and that's precisely what they do.

Eisley's mix of old and new, and accessible and unexpected, makes their music utterly charming, and Combinations is a blend of bewitching contradictions.

Roadsinger is an utterly solid catalog entry under either his adopted spiritual name or his former one. Longtime fans will not be disappointed, and the rest of us should take note, too, because this kind of songcraft is seldom come by anymore.

This combination of fluidity and structure makes Frying On This Rock an absorbing, headphone-centric listen that only demands that the listener turn up the volume and hand over control.

In all, Cranekiss is a beautiful pop fantasia that finds Tamaryn expressing her music's passion and sensuality in exciting new ways.

This is a heartfelt, creative, and deeply inspired album that should appeal to fans of intelligent pop music.

There is not a single weak track on this album. It's an unusually moving and haunting document from one of the unsung heroes of American (and, oddly enough, Jamaican) roots music.

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.

Albums like these always have to strike a careful balance between mimicking the original and killing the spirit of the original, but it's a balance that The Flip Is Another Honey is able to find quite comfortably.

K2O plays like an extended groove, and while the addition of guest percussionists makes it feel more like a band jam than a bedroom recording, the instrumentation never flares up enough to break the listener from a trance. Instead, the setting-sun artwork sums up the vibe for an album that Price himself elegantly describes as "fuzzy lullabies."

Much like our ever expanding universe, Yellow Ostrich's Cosmos is an infinitely listenable album that holds up to repeated scrutiny.

While a sci-fi-themed album by a celebrity cat is by its very nature a novelty, the music made here by Tobey and Bridavsky is quite enjoyable, and Lil BUB's many admirers will be comforted by the charismatic cooing and extreme purring heard in the breakdowns.

I Wanna Go Back to Detroit City makes it clear Andre Williams still has a lot on his mind, and time hasn't dulled his impact one bit.

Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers specialize in good cheer, and while that means they can sometimes overplay their hand here--"Strangest Christmas Yet" sticks out like a sore thumb, each punch line landing with a thud--their act is ingratiating and so is The Long-Awaited Album.

With The Architect, Faith has constructed an album of empowered, mainstream pop that retains all of the complexity, artfulness, and raw emotion of her previous work.

Ultimately, listeners who can embrace the idiosyncrasies of Rothman's voice and the throwback production (don't miss the Kristin Kontrol track, "Jordan," for that niche Casio-and-saxophone sound) will find an intriguing if hit-and-miss set of underlying songs with strokes of classic Brill Building and sophisti-pop.

Weed Garden is a nice little diversion, and finds both Beam and the band he oversees at the top of their long-running game.

It can feel as if she's whispering secrets, but just when that gentleness threatens to get lulling, she scales great heights with elegance. These cannily deployed skills give The Front Porch the faintest hit of grit yet there's also a sense of fragility to the record; it's music that treasures the bittersweet melancholy of a moment that seems gone even as it's being lived.

This album is a bold step into fresh creative ground for the Lone Bellow, but they seem to still be settling into their new musical home.

Despite the involvement of roughly two dozen production partners, the set is cohesive, almost to a fault, and most stimulating when it's slightly vaporous yet bristly, with a foundation in low-end thrum.

Morrison has never been a rockabilly cat, he's a blues shouter and he plays precisely to those strengths here, leading his band through lively and loving readings of rock & roll oldies, never apologizing for the unabashed nostalgia of the entire enterprise.

The stage show in this form is a perfect distillation of all the themes and feelings the book digs into, boiling them down to the truest, most intense nuggets, and Pastel and Thompson's music is a big part of why it works so well both in the show and as a stand-alone album.

With Shawn, Mendes has crafted an album of sustained confessional intimacy, one that continually invites you to listen closely.

Upon first listen Little Honey is quite jarring for all of its textural and production shifts and dodges, but in time it settles into the listener as a mixed collection of decent songs that pack some punch, but no jaw-dropping wallops.

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

American Analog Set have been accused of writing the same song over and over - and over - again, and Set Free isn't immune to that.

Forays into medieval trip-hop ("The Last Laugh") and reggae-influenced indie pop ("Jelly Bean") stretch the boundaries of the album's bedrock, but it's fun to see folk music take such unexpected turns, especially when the destination sounds this enchanting.

Not many bands bring together bluegrass' past and present the way Chatham County Line do, and fewer still can do it this well; Wildwood shows they keep getting better as they follow new stylistic detours in their music.

Gold and Stone is another intriguing entry in the discography of Eternal Summers, a band who is quickly building up an impressive body of work.

This is as enjoyable as the duo's debut, another set that rewards deep listening for those with an affinity for Eno/Moebius/Roedelius, Global Communication, the Detroit Escalator Co., and the tranquil aspects of Kompakt's Pop Ambient series.

Where Wolf Parade dips into more than their fair share of upbeat, even disco beat-driven, music, Handsome Furs instead pull back and strip down their songs.

This work leaves the debut, impressive as it was, in the dust.

Their playing is energetic and in good spirits, and most importantly, their positivity never sounds forced or unnatural. They're not acting like clowns and forcing anyone to smile, and they never sound too eager to please. They're simply having a good time and making relaxed, not-too-heavy boogie rock fit for a summer gathering or a road trip through the desert.

It's just one rock-solid blast after another, each one showcasing the involved parties at their sharpest and mightiest.

Few songs from either record match the bombast of his work with Broken Social Scene, perhaps, but Collett’s albums are better viewed as part of a whole, and Rat A Tat Tat strengthens the country-fried side of his solo personality.

While it's easily the most accessible material from the project to date, a few listens will reveal that it's every bit as chaotic as their early outsider sounds.

These are huge, Motown-sounding set pieces that frame Hynes as a male Dusty Springfield backed by symphonic strings, jangly guitars, and urgent, driving percussion.

This collective has always represented the darker elements of McCaughey's personality, but the depression is kept in check here by Wilco's solid and often upbeat backing, thus playing a major role in the most enjoyable Minus 5 release yet.

The results are sure to please longtime fans, while possibly reeling in a few folks who were turned off by the sonic excess of Dinosaur Jr. at their most punishing.

A record that practically demands a set of headphones to fully appreciate it; concentrated listening is the only way to reconcile the long passages of ambience with the bracing pop songs that often interrupt.

This record isn't about progressing or regressing, and one hesitates to refer to such a strong, enjoyable listen as a holding pattern.

He is honest, without offending, and gives the impression that he genuinely has no biases -- he's just a curious observer of life. And the world, through Rollins' eyes, is an interesting, offbeat, and funny place.

Dear John shows that Svanangen has really gotten his act together; it makes good on all the tremulous, tender, wistful promise of his debut.

Between these two sets, fans get a chance to explore the many facets of High on Fire's sound, and no matter which side of the coin you might fall on, the Spitting Fire Live series has something for you.

It's music to put on when things are getting just a little bit too hectic but you'd never dream of running away from your problems. Music for a suburban weekend, in other words.

It's both quiet and grand, sad and sweet, and undeniably human.

If Kip's songs aren't as hook-heavy or as sticky as his idols, it is nevertheless admirable that he's completely revamped his sound so he doesn't feel like anybody else in contemporary country.

O'Hagan proves here once and for all that he's up to the job.

It all makes for a heartfelt, satisfying whole that reaffirms Lust for Youth as one of the few bands reinterpreting the '80s that can rival and surpass its influences as well as its contemporaries.

The opening title track and "Connect the Dots," two of three cuts produced by recent Dreamchasers signee Papamitrou, are among the grimmest, most thunderous moments in Meek's discography.

Ballet Slippers excels at capturing the conflict that must have existed for Animal Collective after turning in their most successful and adored work. It might be too challenging for the casual listener, but that particular challenge is intrinsic to most of Animal Collective's work.

For every familiar move, there's an unexpected turn.

Fans of the deep-friend earth tones that made up the group's earlier works may not be completely sold on the hi-definition beats and growly synth tones of Cobra Juicy, but newcomers to the band will still have a lot to digest and enjoy in trying to sort out the catchiness from the craziness.

Producers Wheezy and London on da Track handle most the beats on this freaky and fantastic release.

The influence of early Sabbath has become so omnipresent that it's come back to influence its very creators 40 years later, but the results are unexpectedly brilliant, apocalyptic, and essential for any die-hard metal fan.

Make Sure They See My Face, is a much more cohesive record, one that may have an easier time making it onto MTV and mainstream radio.

Moomin is not making house for dancefloors; A Minor Thought aims for the sunrise, the morning after, the calm days devoid of storms.

This is a solid showing from two still-prolific artists, and while none of it is as momentous as duo classics like "N.Y. State of Mind," "I Gave You Power," or "Nas Is Like," it's substantive comfort listening in the form of highly distilled boom bap.

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.

Forever is a mood album, heavily sedated and perpetually out of focus, like an R.E.M. dream after cough syrup.

As of now, they've proven that they can wear the baggy tracksuits, but not that they necessarily deserve them.

By the end of the album, the pastiche of various unlikely influences sounds more like Twig's own weird voice than a calculated amalgam, and the struggle between darkness and beauty in these songs becomes more of a focus than the many obscure musical reference points they contain.

Ricochet lives in a contemplative, midtempo state where every song has weight, melodies can blur together, and meaning is found in those few anchors that help one push through the rest of it all.

If this is a somewhat more sedate effort than the hot-wired Flat Duo Jets of yore, Ruins of Berlin shows Dexter Romweber's passion and gifts are as strong as ever, and the result is a compelling album from a one of a kind talent with plenty to offer.

Of the Cathmawr Yards is a weird album, but sometimes weird is exactly right. That's the case here.

Lean, deafening, and effective in its brutality, Bleeding Through may not have brought anything new to the table, but at least it brought everything else.

The album's back half doesn't boast an outlandish moment like "I Invented Sex," either, but it is the strongest, most varied side of a Trey Songz album, just about flawless. It smoothly shifts through several moods.

There's a pervasive sense of mutual affection and musical respect throughout this album that makes it a pleasure to listen to even in those moments when its other elements don't quite come together perfectly.

Butcher Boy were always going to find it hard to step out of the shadows of their more celebrated chamber pop neighbors, and while Helping Hands is by no means a miserable failure in doing so, it's at its strongest when it embraces their similarities rather than their differences.

Much of the aptly named Th1rt3en feels vintage, from the familiar political themes on "We the People" and the tightly wound, Dio-esque riffing on "Public Enemy No. 1" to the soft, melodramatic military snare intro of "Never Dead," which eventually explodes into a wicked blast of retro-thrash that feels positively invigorating, not redundant.

It’s Torrini's most insular yet assured collection of songs to date.

Ultimately, much like riding a surfboard from wave to wave, Fading West moves from earnest ballads to dancey, groove-oriented cuts to breezy, sunshine-soaked rockers with an easy, athletic flow.

Taken as the debut album from an entirely new band, which it should be, Wovenwar shows great promise, even if it all feels a bit familiar.

A little fine-tuning here and a couple tweaks there and the follow-up might really be something special. Until then, Nap Eyes are solidly promising and that's a good start.

Though it might not be as substantial or as neatly tied together as No Better Time Than Now, the EP is easy to enjoy and full in form.

While First Comes the Night doesn't break any new stylistic ground for Isaak, it also doesn't hurt his reputation, and deftly reinforces his image as a glamorous, charming torchbearer for traditional pop songcraft.

In a world that's turning upside down on a regular basis, the topical EP may be just the right format for Billy Bragg's socially conscious side, and Bridges Not Walls is smart, insightful music from a man who's made such things his business for nearly 35 years.

His gentle pleadings and luring lines evoke lightheadedness, and at times lack enunciation, like he was just wheeled out of oral surgery and had his water laced with an aphrodisiac.

While TEEN have covered all of this ground before, this is some of their most cohesive and satisfying music. As its title implies, Good Fruit is the result of thriving after hardship, and its sense of accomplishment is especially sweet.

It's that feeling of needing to get out of the house and away from your family, or perhaps yourself, that We Are Scientists distill with lab precision on Lobes.

The Great Escape shows that Chris Stamey still has a faultless touch as a songwriter, vocalist, producer, and arranger, and it gently but confidently sees him adding new colors to his palette and using them well.

Cyrus' restless creativity and expert craft is a formidable combination, and at its best, Something Beautiful has a fearlessness and sensuality that could be the beginning of something exciting for her music.

Gorgeous Johnny may be too well crafted for the band's traditional-leaning fans, but its highlights are hard to resist.

Happiness Is shows that they've honed their skills, creating a beautifully crafted, well-constructed album that feels like more than merely a collection of songs, but rather an album full of soaring builds and heartbreaking collapses that lends credence to the notion that the best things come to those who wait.

No surprises, no alterations, no problem. It's reassuringly great music made by a group that know exactly what they are doing and aren't afraid to keep doing it and doing it well.

Alegrias is a breezy yet luxuriant exercise in cultural fusion with none of the setbacks: it's a quiet stunner.

Concrete is modern and polished, yet makes no attempt to disguise the influence of the Texas country tradition in its heartfelt performances.

If you sort of liked the first record but wished it was more interesting, that it had more punch of both the sonic and emotional variety, then your wishes have come true.

Given Burton and Mercer's pedigrees, it's hard not to want more from Broken Bells, but After the Disco's strongest moments suggest that their music is coming into focus.

is a spooky yet beautiful offering by one of our best musical poets; a true outsider trying to come in from the cold.

Song for song, this is better-written and harder-rocking than Cocky.

The themes of isolation, solitude and general soul-crushing existence makes it their most blatantly honest work and helps further reinforce the notion that this is their most fully realized and beautiful release to date.

In the increasingly prevalent spirit of similar trans-cultural musical interminglings in recent years, what we get never feels carefully curated, explicated, or tamed but rather refreshingly, bewilderingly alive -- an explosive flurry of rhythms, sounds, and voices.

With a sound this strong, Miglis could quite conceivably have gotten by with a series of random abstractions, but in fact her lyrics show a strong poetic sense that enhances Hundred Waters' promising maiden voyage even further.

While it's clear that Fear of Men are branching out and exploring different sounds and techniques on this album, the warmth of the first album is missing, and the songs don't always benefit from the experimentation.