While Dead Son Rising isn't likely to propel him back into the mainstream, it's an impressively bold affair that ensures his cult status will remain intact.

There are some great moments on Haven... but until Borth learns how to realize his vision, his albums are going to fall a little short.

Bliss Release is perhaps a little too derivative to justify the classic status it's been afforded in the band's homeland, but it's still a delightfully charming debut, made even more impressive by their hastily assembled beginnings.

Adjusting things just enough between tracks that they stay engaging without ever jarring the listener out of their cocoon of atmosphere, while deftly splitting the difference between the passiveness of purely ambient music and the active intellectualization required to fully absorb the skittering glitches of IDM.

Rose's own songwriting gifts are on ample display throughout Own Side Now, with lyrics that show a knack for poetic turns and artful understatement in equal measure -- a combination too seldom found in young songwriters' work -- and humble but hummable melodies that make the most of her grounding in both alt-country and pop.

It feels like Hungtai is still developing his sound to its fullest, but Badlands is still an intriguing and often haunting official debut.

Wander/Wonder is an exercise in depth, a flowing suite of mermaid's lullabies that turn seductive.

Stranger Me is not only a logical title but a demanding and surprisingly successful experiment that challenges both LaVere and the listener, pushing her into edgy, clearly non-commercial areas.

Ashore is the product of decades of musical maturation and technical refinement, and is an unalloyed triumph.

Last Day of Summer is surely weirder than their actual album material, but it's compelling to watch a band rooted in garage rock go so far out of its comfort zone, try some uncharted styles (jazz, prog, tropicalia, and psych-folk), and still come up with some winners.

The Moonlight Butterfly is yet another effortlessly charming work from The Sea and Cake.

All Things Will Unwind finds this musical auteur at the top of her game, maturing, pushing her already broad boundaries, and brimming with imagination.

SBTRKT's downtempo, mellow nature means it's a dance album that's unlikely to ever be played in a club, but showing James Blake that sparse, minimal dubstep and well-crafted pop melodies aren't mutually exclusive, it's a daring debut which lives up to the masked man's "next big thing" label.

Potent stuff, any way you slice it.

Roberts is in her own league as an improviser, a composer, and conceptualist.

Paper Airplane is very polished -- pristine, even -- but there isn't an extra thing on it. It feels organic and authentic, allowing plenty of room for the emotional power in these songs to come forth.

Its members share a similar sensibility, so that, although they alternate selections as if participating in a song pull, the album holds together in the same spirit... the familiar one of the drunken slacker full of gallows humor, and the folk and folk-rock music, appropriately, is played in ramshackle, thrown-together arrangements.

Kiss Each Other Clean is the result of years of growth and change, and though that sounds incredibly boring, it's also a record full of roiling emotion, tender wit, and deeply felt melodic beauty.

Oh, Fortune is still an indie folk album at heart, with Mangan's acoustic guitar and baritone voice giving every song its most basic foundation, but it's also the most ornate thing he's ever done.

Revelation Road is the quietest record of Lynne's career, but it feels like her rawest, too, even as it offers, in small bits and pieces, the varying shades, complexities, and pleasures in her musical world.

This strong, satisfying, often stunning third release proves he can deliver the goods.

Languid, pastoral, and remarkably serene (each track segues into each other like ice melting on a spring pond), Diamond Mine is so unobtrusive that it barely registers.... A lovely collection of ambient folk songs.

The English Riviera is a challenging but ultimately rewarding effort which cements Mount's reputation as one of Britain's most intriguing pop mavericks.

The group puts some twists on its sound, and Yukimi Nagano's lyrical thorns, typically concealed by her subtle approach -- are sharper than ever.

On Bring Me Your Love Dallas Green laments, pines, and celebrates loves both won and lost, employing a dusky, electrified patina of old and new country with a tinge of soul that's miles (sonically) from his work with the post-hardcore outfit Alexisonfire.

Purists may, of course, have their qualms, but it would be hard to deny the combination of reverence, proficiency, and sheer exuberance in evidence here -- indeed, it's difficult to imagine any serious limits of this band's appeal.

If you're already familiar with Flogging Molly, then Speed of Darkness isn't going to disappoint, and if you're not a fan yet, there's no better time to jump on the wagon than today.

Self-describing their sound as "fight-pop," the impossible-to-type Scottish six-piece Dananananaykroyd stay true to their word on second album There Is a Way, which appears to be waging a war against staying in tune, coherent lyrics, and the concept of subtlety on 12 anarchic tracks that attempt to pummel listeners into submission.

While the album can, at times, feel unfocused, that's also the point of a project like Puscifer, which allows us to take a look inside the mind of one of the most creative frontmen of the last 20 years.

On There Are Rules, the Get Up Kids never sound like they're trying to relearn how to do what they do: they manage the deceptively difficult trick of evolving without turning into something else, and they've made a powerful, engaging album that's worthy of their legacy.

The band sounds ready for battle, but too much time is spent slogging through the swamps of defeat, many of which are adorned with forgettable choruses and melodies that arrive at dead ends, only to bash themselves against the wall hoping for some kind of merciful respite.

A constantly and unexpectedly thrilling comeback from a resurgent band who have upped their game when it matters the most.

There's an unquestionably seductive flow about Young the Giant's debut that's sure to lure in many wandering postmodern rock children, looking for alternatives beyond the same old blockbuster bands name-checked above.

Hope St. certainly won't be the most fashionable or credible album of 2011, but it's a consistently strong collection of old-school tunes which will provide the ideal soundtrack for any road trip, whether it's to California or to Cowdenbeath.

The key feeling could be summed up in the album title, in a way -- it's not necessarily that the album is all about love, but it's definitely about warmth and happy energy with a definite male slant, a blissed feeling over the heavy crunch and impact of the music.

Panic of Girls rushes forth on a sleek new wave disco pulse that's entirely unconcerned about whether '80s retro is in style this season or not. This is fashionable music existing outside the realm of fashion.

For better or worse, this album is polished and mature -- words that never would have described Cold War Kids' music before.

It hardly feels coincidental that My Main Shitstain was released on a label called Big Dada, because that's almost exactly what it is: a statement that borders on nonsensical; cynically upbeat garage punk that's equal parts entertainment and introspection. No matter how it's described, however, it's definitely something you won't forget.

Described as a rallying call to guitar bands by Bowman, Up, Guards and at 'Em isn't distinctive or original enough to inspire anyone to swap their synths for a six-string, and instead, sounds more like a final nail in the British indie coffin than the shot in the arm it needed.

They execute it all with a fullness of sound and compelling melodic content that pulls the listener in, almost as surely as any first-rate opera.

If Famous Monsters was a step back for the Misfits legacy, this is a bigger step in the wrong direction.

The end result is an album on a shaded, comfortable grayscale, music that's suitably mature yet sidesteps stultifying notions of middlebrow class.

After 15 years, Boris are doing exactly what they should with fascinating if uneven results: testing their limits as a band and expanding their sonic horizons.

Despite all the electronics, there's no mistaking The Path of Totality as a Korn album...and one of their better ones to boot.

If the songwriting isn't strong enough to make listeners confuse this with a Back to Black follow-up, the productions and performances are up to her high caliber.

The man's overuse of Auto-Tune is now a given, and here it coats all of his heartfelt moments with robotic perfection, but it is surprising how T-Pain's gigantic producer hat remains off save a handful of cuts.

Turner walks a fine line of providing hushed mood music for a film, and delving into someplace deeper; his tunes aren't mere background music, yet there's a casualness to his Submarine songs that keeps them from truly resonating.

Condon spends much of Rip Tide writing in first person, and it lends an air of much needed intimacy to the always gorgeous, yet historically elusive Beirut sound.

The essence of the music might be simple but the band squeezes remarkable emotions from it. The new world order of psychedelia is here.

While it doesn't break any new ground and remains firmly entrenched in contemporary country's geography, it evokes the riled-up, bluesy hard country rock sound of Hank Jr. enough that it separates Church from the genre's other practitioners who are attempting the same thing.

Ultimately, The Cosmic Birth ... is a further step in Akron/Family's already expansive musical journey; one that will no doubt delight fans and should turn on novices in droves.

[Thurston Moore's and Beck's] collaboration lives up to its promise, delivering an album of psychedelic chamber folk that is the perfect meeting of both artists' mellow sides.

Peanut Butter ... might be just a little too left-field to capture the zeitgeist in the same way that Skinner did a decade previously, but it's a hypnotic and ultimately rewarding debut which, along with recent efforts from James Blake and Jamie Woon, proves that the words chill-out and challenging don't have to be mutually exclusive.

It's an excellent introduction to the modern Western Saharan sound, and also a fine addition for existing fans of the group.

Losing Sleep is a heartwarming tribute to Collins and a statement that, although he's still on the mend, he's still got a lot more to give.

Jarosz's talent is wondrous and in no way normal, and her developing musical maturity continues to be a wonder to watch.

Several cuts are instrumental workouts, unpredictable and flagrantly noodle-y. Others venture into tranquil folk-soul and soft jazz-pop; for all the animated instrumental flexing on display, it's those atmospheric and simpler songs that move the most.

There aren't quite as many standout tracks this time around, but there are no real low points to speak of, and there's plenty to enjoy, especially from a beat programming standpoint -- or, even more especially, from the center of a crowded, sweat-soaked dancefloor.

On the surface of things, this is a bit of an odd task, taking left-behind lyrics from one of the great songwriters and breathing life into them. But nobody here seems intimidated; they seem honored -- and there are some pretty good songs that come out of the project.

The experience of The Director's Cut, encountering all this familiar material in its new dressing, is more than occasionally unsettling, but simultaneously, it is deeply engaging and satisfying.

Wild Flag isn't just an exciting debut and one of 2011's most dynamic rock records, it proves that a group is truly super when the personalities involved work together and have fun.

Front to back, Relentless, Reckless Forever is probably the most consistent Children of Bodom release yet.

At the Crossroads delivers what its title promises: a portrait of the Organ Trio at the point where they look back at B-3 jazz history and move it ever forward.

There's plenty of weird, surrealist fun to be had on their debut album.

The second half is dominated by ballads made for seduction (with more than a little preening). They don't offer much in the way of development from Thicke's recent past but they should get the job done.

Field Songs is Whitmore's masterpiece thus far: unflinching, stubborn, demonstrative, and inspiring.

While Last Summer has enough ties to her work with the Fiery Furnaces to please fans, it gives Friedberger the time in the spotlight she deserves.

Those looking to rock out won't find many headbanging opportunities here, but Nothing Is Wrong works well as driving music, particularly if the scenery outside your windshield matches the sepia-toned music.

The whole thing is designed for instant pleasure (or immediate repulsion), even when the titles evoke treacherous levels of a fantasy video game.

Paisley's determination to keep This Is Country Music lean and lanky does mean it's not as wily as his other records, but his consummate skill as a musician and big heart are always evident, always keeping things compelling.

Such a well-built slab of indie rap that a four-year wait seems well worth it.

With its slow, even pacing and spaciousness, As High as the Highest Heavens and From the Center to the Circumference of the Earth is a fantastically understated piece of headphones-ready post-rock goodness that will draw you into its depths with deceptively simple arrangements before trapping you in its sludgy melodies, making for a fantastic follow-up from this promising band.

The Harrow & the Harvest is stunning for its intimacy, its lack of studio artifice, its warmth and its timeless, if hard won, songcraft.

As alluring and dreamlike as anything from Willner's first two full-lengths.

With any luck, Pistol Annies is not a one-off for the trio, but rather a regular gig: this is too much pure fun to not repeat.

More than any other Black Keys album, El Camino is an outright party, playing like a collection of 11 lost 45 singles, each one having a bigger beat or dirtier hook than the previous side.

An intriguing sonic experience from start to finish, Severant is a bold left-field first offering from an artist who's quickly establishing himself as the intelligent dance scene's "one to watch."

These may be Bird songs, but they are not played the way Bird played them. Lovano and crew tend to slow them down and consider them, as if appending musical footnotes; if Parker was the quintessential bebop player, this is a determinedly post-bop interpretation.

Jaar assembled the disc from several years' worth of recordings -- he's relentlessly productive -- but it has a conceptual unity that makes it feel like the product of a single burst of inspiration.

No Devolución is an album that could easily make converts out of the skeptical, allowing the band to reintroduce themselves to the world over a decade after their first album was released.

Musically, Undun flows easier and slower than any other Roots album.

It's all played with an energy and focus that will impress even the most die-hard fan of '70s prog who claim "they just don't make 'em like that anymore".

A pure speaker-blowing party record, Biasonic Hotsauce is a vast improvement on Bias' previous effort, but it's difficult to see it making any waves outside the South London underground scene.

Some Kind of Hate is an album that is definitely a treat for old fans who will easily assure anyone who was worried about the new direction the band was going in that the old Aiden is still alive and kicking.

Volcanic Sunlight, despite its sharp contrast from Niggy Tardust, is an absolutely fitting follow-up; it's Williams once more wriggling out of preconceived notions by subverting them entirely.

The band's ability to shift tempos and feelings without coming across as prog rock dorks is definitely a secret weapon.

Decas isn't a great place for new fans to pick up with As I Lay Dying, but for those who have been around the block a few times with these guys, it's an album that they won't want to miss out on.

The Dangerous Summer may not be original, but it is available.

Hollandaze is an impressive debut.

Pillado's songs are super-catchy and his vocals spot-on, and the band sounds perfectly shambolic but also full of energy and verve, sort of like a cross between the Pastels and a jangly '60s garage band like the Dovers.

While the double-disc edition is quite a handsome thing in its own right--the Super Deluxe Edition is something special thanks to the alternate version of Quadrophenia, which contains six songs cut from the final album.

Ultimately, Christmas is a warm and inviting album that showcases Bublé's impeccable vocal chops.

The whole idea of Birdy sounds like a transparent attempt to court a more credible audience, but thanks to her haunting tones and a tasteful yet compelling production, it impressively avoids being the try-hard affair you'd expect.

Rio is therefore the new standard by which the pianist's future solo recordings will be judged, and perhaps also sets the bar for any other player who attempts the same.

Can released not merely one of the best Krautrock albums of all time, but one of the best albums ever, period.

It's possible to appreciate just how much Butch Vig brought to Siamese Dream....This set is clearly designed with dedicated fans in mind, but for those diehards, this Deluxe Edition will offer many gems.

He sounds at peace with his past and comfortable with his present, and that casual assurance makes Songbook his best solo offering to date.

A gift for fans who want to dig deep into the Smashing Pumpkins archive.