Those who don't like rootsy ballads are in for some slim pickings, since Barton Hollow shines its brightest whenever the tempos slow, the lights dim, and the voices rise up.

936 sounds like being nestled in a warm basement during the coldest winter in recent history, or the feeling of waking from a dream, somehow suspended all day.

The album is full of the complex love songs and working-class vignettes that McKenna is so good at... [filled] with McKenna's usual grace and subtle poetry.

If this was meant to be an experiment in art rock, it's an admirably efficient one, and it rocks out, too.

The Baseball Project doesn't do fluff songs on the subject, though, and the songs on this second outing, like they were on the first, are intelligently written and arranged, running the full spectrum of emotions that baseball can inspire in a fan, and in so doing, the best of the songs rise above novelty to grapple with the passions and difficulties of life itself.

This unforgiving return to form doesn't suffer from being over-thought and it's not even overwrought, but it is overstuffed at 14 tracks.

The best moments are bathed in a warm radiance that fosters a comforting, uplifting mood.... However, the content isn't exclusively cerebral, uplifting, and/or surreal.

A charmingly lush and wistful affair which proves that their unexpected Ivor Novello nominations were no fluke.

Fans of the early dream pop stuff may have difficulties accepting a cleaner, more synthesized pop approach.

A firebrand debut album, Talk About Body celebrates the struggle and freedom in defying easy classification.

Like any good album for the information age, Soul Punk is overloaded well past the point of saturation and its merciless in its attack, so it can be a bit overbearing, yet there's a real, vivid imagination behind its crystalline clamor.

Goulding is able to take the best parts of all of her contemporaries' styles and make them her own, coating everything in the breathy flutter of her voice.

Moments of band interplay showcase their collective ear for the nervously romantic-sounding post-punk that's helped inspire the group's sound.

For those quick to claim that guitar music is dead, Cadenza is a sharp reminder that the genre still has plenty of life left in it yet.

With keyboard and drum machine-led swirls, higher-pitched and echoed vocals, and an embrace for what could be called art-pop-not-rock, Moonface's Organ Music is very much in the right place for 2011.

They've rediscovered what made them vital.

She's never been more as completely herself on record as she is here.

Darwin Deez is a guy who has clearly created a persona to deliver his material, but that doesn't disguise the fact he has a lot of talent and has a made an album that proves he's a 21st century indie pop prodigy with a promising future.

If summery and slick, no-frills pop-punk is what you crave, look no further.

The sheer ballast of [Jack] White's vision can be exhausting, the individual elements clanking chaotically and never quite gelling. Jackson gives as strong as a performance as she can, tearing into the oldies with ease and valiantly attempting the new songs, but she sounds most at ease with the quieter moments.

Builds on the loose and raw sound of Wold's earlier records, but [the album] is also an extension of them, pulling in strains of folk and country and adding them to his signature trance blues sound. The result is a powerfully good record.

An intimate and emotive affair which manages to pursue a slightly mellower direction while still retaining their trademark oddball sensibilities.

While the New York Dolls struggled to balance past and present on their previous reunion albums, Dancing Backward in High Heels is a product of the here and now as defined by two guys following their muse in their own way, which is just what they should be doing at this stage of the game.

Brilliant! Tragic! is a little uneven in its mix of new and familiar ideas, but for a band as clearly defined -- and sometimes confined -- by its approach as Art Brut is, to start changing the formula is a big step forward.

Head of the class, leader of the pack good, and you won't hear many rock & roll records better than this in 2011.

Ottewell isn't the first Gomez bandmate to pursue interests outside the band, but Shapes & Shadows is the most accessible solo effort to appear from that group.

The Fall winds up a little ephemeral, its pleasures as fleeting as the scenery passing outside the windows of a tour bus.

Vedder never has been ashamed of his bleeding heart... it's refreshing to have a record where that heart is pushed toward the center, beating fully and proudly on his lightest, sweetest album yet.

This album perhaps best shows the duo able to capture the sense of drone as exaltation, something derived from the choice of instruments used, whether old keyboards, guitars, effects pedals, or further combinations and extrapolations as desired.

Heavy on atmosphere and hooks alike, Pleasure comes one bounding step closer in the eternal quest to marry refined song craft and ungovernable noise.

At this point, EDD will probably never get the recognition they deserve, but those in the know are sure glad they're still at it.

Based on the theme of technology and the power it holds over modern life, its 14 tracks showcase Skinner's trademark hip-hop witticisms.

Adhering to the old-school MC/producer approach, Well-Done is a promising and cohesive affair which proves Bronson has the raw talent to match his much talked about appetite.

In Case You Didn't Know is assuredly going to help Murs become one of Britain's finest national male pop stars for the next little while.

Live at the South Bank is an artfully and spiritually satisfying coda to a long and criminally underappreciated career.

The end result of this is an album that'll come as a blast from the past for the band's fans and should easily get heads nodding with its affably introspective lyrics and huge choruses.

There are times throughout its ten tracks when Lloyd does appear to be testing the patience of even her most ardent fans.

200 Years is as subtle as they come and makes for excellent background music, especially if you're feeling fragile.

Music for Confluence may lack the usual highs and lows associated with film scores, but it more than compensates for them with its sad, yet lovely strangeness.

Produced by Rancid member and Hellcat Records owner Tim Armstrong, Jimmy Cliff's Sacred Fire EP is a wonderful jumble of time and place that ends much too soon.

Ultimately, 777: The Desanctification is a worthy answer to its predecessor, even as it expresses the more experimental side of Blut Aus Nord's sound arsenal.

Mirrorwriting is an encouraging first offering which should neatly fill the spacious, indie R&B gap until the XX's next record comes along, but if it could have sustained the quality of its opening six tracks, it could have been much better.

Haley's output can be enjoyed in one-track doses or complete immersion, and it often inspires YouTube users to upload unofficial videos incorporating fuzzy, dreamlike images from early- to mid-'80s television and film clips.

Bittersweet and incredibly catchy, Endless Now is the kind of album that just gets better with repeated listening.

Burning with a hot track intensity somewhere in between early evening rave-up and late-night club afterglow, Torches is a beacon of melodic dance-pop love.

Murderbot delivers the goods necessary to get people on the floor and moving their feet without resorting to standard four-on-the-floor cliches.

Like all BSP records, Valhalla Dancehall aims for the nosebleed section while remaining oddly detached.

Epic riffs play a bigger part than before, but Abasi is as jaw-dropping as ever with his double-tapping technique and arpeggiated whirlwind solos.

A cohesive but slightly repetitive affair, Ecstatics International occasionally matches the euphoria of its obvious influences, but it's perhaps a little too aimless to propel Swimming into the big league.

This combination of a tight, talented band and a tortured frontman doesn't necessarily make Falling in Reverse a revelatory band, but is does make The Drug in Me Is You a very solid album that will give fans of Radke's a chance to get reacquainted with the notorious post-hardcore bad boy.

The nostalgia-heavy lyrical bent of some songs can read either sweet or cringe-worthy, depending on your birth date and sensitivity to sentiment.

Time Machine 2011: Live in Cleveland chronicles a typically strong, consistent Rush show.

Southern Rock Opera should be required listening not only for fans of the genre, but anyone interested in the history of '70s rock, or even the history of the South in that decade.

No surprises in terms of material, but the presentation is exquisite, sounding familiar and fresh, a stunning re-presentation of records that were teetering on the edge of over-familiarity.

Inclusions is not an album for any typical audience, though those with more esoteric and adventurous tastes may embrace it.

Bootleg, Vol. 3 showcases what we already know (intellectually, at least) about Cash in a very emotional and visceral way.

This Is Christmas is a joyous and affectionate affair that already feels like an instant festive classic.

What could have been a throwaway side project has instead turned out to be a quietly charming and affectionate labor of love that hopefully won't be the last collaboration between the two.

Buried beneath the relentless, grinding beats and wobbly bass tremors, Welcome Reality is home to a potentially great but unfinished sci-fi blockbuster soundtrack, but unable to sustain its early momentum, it ends up being merely a solid first offering rather than the trail-blazing spectacular that was anticipated.

A wonderfully imaginative score which deserves some recognition come awards season.

Stetson's transcendent and muscular ability to layer sound, breath, and rhythm in a meditative compositional style sticks with you long after Judges is over.

The target audience should think of it as a bag marked "regs" that comes with no organic flavor or transcendent buzz, but is easy to roll and surprisingly dank.

That Back to Love is not a major shake-up is not a bad thing. Most of the songs are instantly ingratiating in some way, with none of the lighter, upbeat numbers the least bit out of character.

It's a curious creature with habits of its own, though the results suggest they shouldn't end this grand experiment just yet.

While its parts don't quite come together in a way that rivals IRM, Stage Whisper is a welcome adjunct that celebrates Gainsbourg's skills in the studio and in front of an audience.

Hazed Dream is the band's subtlest album as well as its most accessible, and its low-key pleasures reveal themselves over time.

Colon certainly sounds more comfortable here than he did on his first two albums.

Ultimately, while Frampton is never allowed to settle into one aesthetic sound on Red--moving from electronic pop to dance-rock to folk-pop--her honey-sweet voice and emotionally compelling delivery are enough to carry you along for the ride.

Mirror Mirror isn't the kind of record that will bowl you over right away, but as you listen, the barely contained drama and violence of the performances, the bloody hooks each song contains, and the inspired craft of the arrangements will draw you in and knock you out.

The new wave funk of "Ungrateful" and the Franz Ferdinand-esque "It's Obvious" shows the bandmembers aren't averse to the odd indie disco anthem, but the album is much more convincing when it embraces the spiky romanticism of the group's obvious influences.

When you want to hear something nice and don't want to be overly engaged or challenged, Within and Without will satisfy your needs in that regard, and only those looking for memorable songs or fresh sounds will feel let down.

There is plenty to like on Cherish, from the unfailingly memorable songs to Eisold's winningly in-your-face vocal mannerisms.

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.

Lollipop might have been an inspiring return to form; as it is, it's flawed but interesting enough to confirm there's still life left in this band, which (with any luck) the Meat Puppets will document in a more satisfying manner next time they record.

But while it's sometimes a little too understated for its own good, 100 Acres of Sycamore is a never less than a charming and emotive U-turn suggesting that Regan now realizes where his talents lie.

Lupercalia's highly melodic but still resolutely exuberant nature indicates that Wolf's newfound positive outlook on life definitely seems to suit him.

The name Psychedelic Horseshit is more accurate than ever, as they truly sound psychedelic for the first time, surrounded by wild soundbursts and shiny musical squiggles that would probably be called "horseshit" by most mainstream rock fans...In a way, it's perfect. A perfect mess.

While Golden Worry isn't quite as deep as Terrible Two, it's an exciting follow-up, nonetheless.

It may come to define or utterly transcend metal; but it doesn't matter because this album is in its own class. Anyone remotely interested in heavy music needs to encounter Aesthethica at least once.

Let Me Come Home never really develops into the lump in the throat it wants to be, though it certainly isn't for lack of trying.

Parton has never sounded fresher or more spirited, and with "Somebody's Missing You" in particular, she shows she still knows how to write a timeless song.

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.

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

There's a lot going on, but Hotel Shampoo never seems cluttered. It flows easily, so easily that it becomes an album to get lost in.

Performances are generally middling, but a few songs show a glimmer of the band's former jagged glory.

Losing his religion doesn't mean he's lost his gift for indie rock songwriting, though, and fans who're willing to indulge Bazan's soul-searching will find Strange Negotiations similar to Pedro the Lion's catalog, with a familiar mix of minor-key starkness and lush, guitar-fueled rock songs.

You could single out any song on the album for praise or inclusion on a killer summer mixtape and you wouldn't go wrong... this album is one of the sleeper picks for best-of 2011.

W isn't as rousing as its predecessor, but it may be an even richer album; in its own way, it's just as audacious.

Now as before, there are few groups in rock & roll that perform as brilliantly and purposefully as an ensemble as the Feelies, and on Here Before their trademark sound remains a thing of wonder that hasn't been dimmed a bit by the passage of time.

Bestival Live 2011 is an understandably honest reflection of the Cure in the popular mind as their commercial high point recedes further into the past, but given Smith and the band's other contemporaneous activities, it's an incomplete portrait.

Kane once again [after the Last Shadow Puppets] delves into the psychedelic era with a connoisseur's ear for detail and comes away with another similarly ambitious collection of bluesy psych- and folk-inflected rock.

Anyone intrigued by the idea of emo-rap at its most introspective will find this a well-crafted and moving effort, while returning Atmosphere fans get the satisfying usual with some extra maturity and growth.

The Kronos Quartet, So Percussion, and the six players in Dance Patterns deliver topnotch performances, and Nonesuch's sound is immaculate.

The whole sternly focused thing is laced with enough emphasis on sound design to function as an immersive headphone listen, while at least two-thirds of it can drain one's energy on a dancefloor.

The way he blazes through so many songs in such a short space is a little overwhelming, but Cloud Nothings is a solid step forward for Baldi as he gets ready for what comes after teenage wasteland.

The Kid's voice has aged, lowered, and mellowed, but otherwise you'd think this witty genre-spanning, time-jumping collection of tropical kitsch and too-cool nostalgia came from the group's golden era.

Designated chillout areas and other blue rooms will find Fever Dream a worthwhile soundtrack, while longtime fans get that wistful vagabond indie-hop style once again, only this time it's transmitted from deep, blissful space.

Jonny's 2011 self-titled debut is a collection of bright, literate, and catchy '60s-influenced pop.