This is the satisfying return album fans have waited for, no more, and certainly no less.

Whatever Bishop Allen's intention, there is a sort of miasma hovering over Lights Out that supports the "sad party album" claim, adhering these clever pop songs together but deflating some of their energy in the process. It's an odd effect making for a pleasurable yet confusing listen.

Long in the Tooth features ten new Shaver songs, and if his voice by now (the album was released in his 75th year) has worn to a deep, rough rasp, the songs are as strong and as vital and world-weary wise as ever.

V is a solid, dream-inducing, quietly dramatic step forward for JJ.

They've constructed a vivid and often mysterious beast of an album with snippets of commentary and perspective hidden within, highly enjoyable either taken at face value or dug into deeper.

Clamping down and checking out rarely sounded as good as it does on Blacc Hollywood, and sometimes it's even Greta-Garbo-"I want to be alone" good.

An album that caters to the sensibilities of the Lips'-voracious fan base without doing so exclusively, providing an entryway for old-school prog lovers to check out how weird the guys from that little band that did that jelly song have gotten over the last couple of decades.

This is the sound of an artist open to a range of possibilities so vast they can't help but contradict each other, and he just can't be bothered by the confusion or annoyance those contradictions may cause his listenership. In the end it doesn't matter anyway, as Raposa is already on to one of the album's many moments of brilliance by the time our heads have stopped spinning from one of its moments of unfettered oddness.

With a purported 30 songs to pick from, the Magic Numbers ultimately boiled everything down to 11 of the group's most solidly engaging cuts to date.

They take things just seriously enough that their albums don't feel like a joke, but aren't afraid to have a little fun, making Maximum Overload another dazzling heavy metal romp from the stalwart shredmasters.

Even though Albumin doesn't quite hold together as a coherent statement, it's a densely packed, often fascinating work and a welcome return.

Though a couple of cuts fall short of the mark, and the set may have a few too many guests, Ske-Dat-De-Dat is a solid tribute to Armstrong. It does take chances and almost always pulls them off thanks to Dr. John's signature blend of musical imagination, wit, and savvy cool.

This theatricality is easily the album's most engaging feature, making The Resistance: Rise of the Runaway a unique offering in an otherwise dull post-hardcore landscape.

Stronger than ever is the group's proclivity for shiny pop.

Cory Branan may not have any hits--yet--but No-Hit Wonder shows that's sure not for lack of talent or a voice that makes his songs go down easy.

This young band delivers well-written and unapologetically retro pop/rock; that said, their enthusiastic delivery and clever arrangements are decisively modern.

Perhaps Grande doesn't embody the songs the way an old-fashioned diva would, but she functions as a likeable pop ringleader, stepping aside when the track calls for it and then unleashing a full-throated wail when it's her time to shine.

This is, for want of a better word, his wheelhouse, and while he may not be leaving his comfort zone here, Moonshine in the Trunk proves his strengths remain mighty potent.

You've almost certainly heard other acts do what Shovels & Rope do on Swimmin' Time plenty of times; the difference is, this duo can do it better than most, and that's enough to keep them going until they're capable of developing a more unique personality to call their own.

Yes, the production on Homo Erraticus is too precise--there's too much air, there's too much room to roam, decisions that diminish the impact of the music --but the contours of the compositions deliberately and delicately recallclassic Tull, so Homo Erraticus winds up satisfying: it's as close to '70s prog as is possible in 2014.

Even if it doesn't have as much of the jagged need that sparked their best work, El Pintor is Interpol's most consistent album since Antics; fans who love the band for its pure sound will probably enjoy it more than those looking for stop-you-in-your-tracks moments.

A true obsession with sound comes through on Mean Love, and regardless of the mode Gallab finds himself in at any given moment, stellar production and heartfelt songwriting keep the album engaging and beautiful at every turn.

Especially after the staid Junk, the deliberate liveliness of Listen is indeed welcome, and sometimes, the results come close to infectious.

While Goddess could have used some better editing, it still reveals glimpses of an artist who could shape the sounds of the times instead of just reflecting them.

Crush Songs is a slightly strange choice for O's first full-fledged solo effort. Still, this unassuming musical diary showcases many of the best things about the music she makes on her own.

Building upon the anthemic synth pop of their previous 2013 album, Anna, the Manchester outfit delve even deeper into a layered post-punk sound that finds them adding more guitars and even strings on some cuts.

Sometimes, the group achieves a delicate balance between the two extremes--"It Was Always You," "New Love," and the aforementioned "Feelings"--but the best moments on V are when Maroon 5 embrace the tuneful, slightly soulful adult contemporary pop band they've always been.

Ultimately, Wand's gift for songwriting guides the endless psychedelic tug of war that is Ganglion Reef, offering listeners something turbulent and strange but deeply rooted in strong tunes.

With a sound falling somewhere between low-key, late-night indie fare and a seasoned arena rock act, Dismantle and Rebuild is a strong, colorful debut and points toward even better things in the future from the Ramona Flowers.

Nothing here is innovative or particularly startling, though, but it's all solid, and it's comforting to know that Winter went out in peace with the blues and his legacy, and most importantly, without his skills diminishing.

The muted analog production meeting with cartoonish arrangements and religious sentiments leave the album feeling like some kind of pleasant soundtrack to a Christian summer camp where Van Dyke Parks and Of Montreal's Kevin Barnes are the counselors.

Ultimately it doesn't matter because hearing him play fresh material is a bit of a gas and certainly welcome after many years of Christmas and covers records.

While this far more polished version of Lemonade is barely recognizable when held up to their earlier incarnations, their more developed aptitude toward hooks, melody, and intricate dance production makes Minus Tide a much more memorable--and in its own way, equally visceral--listening experience.

Jaiyede Afro marks a welcome return for Orlando Julius and overall is an excellent, fingerpopping, ass-shaking collaboration.

Brown combines memorable hooks with some stellar production work on the rubbery disco-funk of "Add Me In" (courtesy of Danja) and the blithe, swaying "Time for Love" (a collaboration with Jean Baptiste and Free School). In these and a few other songs, romantic affection, expressed with seemingly genuine sweetness, takes precedence over sexual aggression and petulance.

The EP feels like a great extension of Julia with Blue Jeans On, and one can't help but wonder what phase Krug will develop toward with the next Moonface installment as he moves from one place to the next.

Ultimately, Partners works as guided tour down Streisand's memory lane, and with her resonant voice still in supple shape, any excuse to hear her sing is a welcome invitation.

It's mindful of the past but stands happily in the present, and this release doesn't mourn the loss of a gifted songwriter and vocalist so much as it celebrates the joy he found in his music, and this album will bring a smile to anyone who loved Jesse Winchester's music.

Space Invader is the required retro return, one that's well-executed, from its '80s video game title to its mix of thick, singalong rockers and laid-back guitar show pieces.

We Loved Her Dearly shows a lot of promise and there's plenty to like about Lowell's attitude and talent, but some gentle tightening of her vision would go a long way in strengthening her image.

Good chance newcomers will fall for the singles and be frustrated by the perceived filler, but that's the biggest fault with Wonder Where; it could be more persuasive and open.

Ultimately, Dude Incredible is a good but not great album from an undeniably great band; it doesn't sound lazy, just short one or two top-rank songs that would bump its status up a notch, but it's clearly the work of as strong and interesting a band as you can hear these days.

He's wound up making records that are the new millennial equivalent of classic soft rock, records informed by the trends of the day but which place emphasis on melody and craft, which is why they resonate: they come on smooth and easy but have the foundation to last.

These songs may be about ambivalence, but Park grows more confident with each release.

Time to Die is not Dopethrone; you only get one of those. But its well-tread riffology is enough of a back to basics approach that it should bring alienated purists back into the EW fold.

If his bitterness is unavoidable in the lyrics or in his voice, his music softens his bite, turning these tunes into melancholy laments instead of invective, so there winds up being a bit of a needed cushion to Mellencamp's straight talk on Plain Spoken.

Oldham’s intentions behind re-recording these relatively recent songs are puzzling, but the curious nature of the album is just another chapter of the mysterious, and in this case highly enjoyable saga of Bonnie "Prince" Billy.

Lady Antebellum always have been a pop band so this concentrated gloss doesn't feel inappropriate.

The craft Zoot Woman bring to Star Climbing'a best moments continues to set them apart from the ever-growing number of similarly minded acts.

It nicely blends the spontaneous charm of a homemade record with the professionalism expected from a rock veteran who made something good out of a tough situation.

With so much confidence and gothic swagger, it's hard not to be entertained by this album, and listeners who may have been thrown by their inconsistent early work would do well to dive back into the abyss with this third effort.

This is an immaculately crafted, impossibly tasteful miniature, one that will satisfy any listener longing for a Radiohead stripped of future shock.

Even if it's not her most intimate work, Taiga allows Nika to be inventive and craft some some stunningly beautiful moments along the way.

The problem here, though, is that with the exception of the above songs ["Love Ain't a Love Song," "Oh Beautiful!," "Never Give All Your Heart," and "Trouble Town"], and maybe one or two others, the songs on Different Shades of Blue shade toward the generic side of things, and no matter how wonderful and gorgeous the guitar tones may be, it's hard to make a generic song sing memorably.

Iceage have done a fair bit of reinvention on Plowing Into the Field of Love, but if the sound is less brutal, it's no less challenging, and emotionally this hits as hard as anything they've released to date.

Not everything sticks. Some of the lazing tracks verge on rudderless meandering, but as a whole, Shaker Notes is a fascinating detour.

While the newer additions to Thurston's muse are all well and good, The Best Day is most exciting when he returns to his most familiar trademarks, again investigating a sound that has spawned generations of imitators but still sounds like no one else.

In spite of its extra padding and occasional foibles, it's a strong debut and Hozier is far more commanding and convincing than so many other blues-inspired young turks lurking conspicuously in the alleyways of indiedom.

Though the album contains plenty of odd twists and turns, there's enough of the old Melvins to keep things from straying too far from home, offering more than a few comforting oases for listeners to refresh themselves before they head out to explore some of Hold It In's weirder moments.

He fares better on "Silver and Gold" and "Humour Me," where more energy and sensuality keep things afloat, proving once again that soul-searching and dancing don't have to be at cross purposes.

Fans of the band will find enough familiar ground here, but Wild Animals shows a continued creative evolution at work.

The album is dark and haunted, with the same sense of paranoia that touched Curiosity, but even with production handled again by Unknown Mortal Orchestra's Jacob Portrait, the songs sound more live, visceral in a way that comes when a band graduates from low-key house parties close to home to nightly international touring.

EP release Pulsars e Quasars offers something of an introductory grab bag of the various styles that Arp is capable of.

This casual, almost steely, assurance is appealing and even if the record goes on far too long at 15 tracks (18 in editions exclusive to certain retailers), this focus coalesces Old Boots, New Dirt, turning it into one of his best records.

It can slip into the background but it also rewards close listening because Ford captures a hazy, unsteady vibe where the future may be uncertain but there's faith that it will arrive.

Phantom Radio shows that a bit more production polish and digital styling hasn't fogged Lanegan's message, and Phantom Radio reveals the singer and his songs are as strong and as eloquent as ever.

At its best, Pink Palms is quirky in the best sense of the word; it's got a lot of personality and plenty of unexpected twists. Though it might be wise for the Bots to narrow their focus next time around, wondering what they'll do next is a big part of this album's fun.

The Toronto trio's first album is an impressive debut that shows the band to be masters of taking psychedelic, experimental, and simply interesting music of many eras and delivering them all wrapped up in one shimmering package that's easy to absorb.

Even if Museum of Love sometimes comes across as a sampler of DFA sounds past and present, it's an album that those who enjoy the label's output will almost certainly like, and a promising debut in its own right.

His penchant for on-the-nose phrasing and big pop moments would be grating if those instincts weren't so sharply honed and the sugary results so immaculately delivered.

The 13-track set adds some relatively subtle flourishes of electronics to the mix while dialing back a little on Sean Mackin's signature violin playing, but fans looking to conjure up some nostalgia for the band's Ocean Avenue heyday will find what they're looking for.

Howard expects you to meet him on his own terms and provides just enough aural enticement to give him not just one listen but a second, which is when I Forget Where We Were really begins to sink in its hooks.

Standing in the Breach is a back to the basics Browne album, and is all the better for it.

While both sides [of the album] are well executed, neither makes as much of an impact as it has in the past. It may not be ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead's most exciting album, but there are still enough bright moments here to keep fans engaged.

A state-of-the art country-pop record, a modern update of urban cowboy that works because it never hides its soft aspirations but never makes a fuss about them either.

Lennox has crafted an album that brings to mind the sophisticated, contemporary sound of her original studio releases while allowing her to revel in the grand popular song tradition.

While Sound of a Woman is slightly too long and unfocused, at its best it's a potent reminder of how much fun this sound was--and is.

While having their most celebrated drummer on hand adds an element of stability to what is a pretty far-out concept even for Primus, the addition of Bass and Dillon allows Primus to really push their sound to its creative limits, making Primus & the Chocolate Factory one of the band's oddest, yet most strangely compelling, releases to date.

Although die-hard Beatles fans might see the album as a bit blasphemous, the Flaming Lips' treatment of the classic work makes it clear the band have a great respect for the Fab Four's legacy and influence, making the album a wonderful distraction that provides fans with a window into the influences of one of rock's most enduring and joyously weird bands.

Nobody else can sing like Jerry Lee and it remains a pleasure to hear him sink his teeth into nearly any song, especially when he's supported by a team as sympathetic as he is here.

Sense of purpose gets eclipsed by sense of self on If There's a Hell Below, but Black Milk deserves to ride the vibe of his previous work more than most. Consider this a returning fan's album, and then go about becoming one.

At their best, recall a sort of world-weary punk troubadour but occasionally feel a bit too put on. For the most part, though, Restorations succeed in delivering a well-built album that feels ambitious but remains engaging, with its sights set on the wide-open horizon.

Third album Lifer continues that album’s gnarled tendencies, offering up blurry washes of ghastly rock that have more in common with '90s metal-leaning grunge acts than the sometimes artsy punk undercurrents that wander in and out of Dope Body's sound.

Possibly too understated, Woolhouse could benefit from more pronounced changes and variations in his writing, but taken as a whole Songs is a warmly rendered mood piece full of layers and quiet yearning.

Ultimately, while Bass Drum of Death's reach never exceeds their grasp--there's no MC5-style ersatz free jazz, let alone a guitar solo to be found here--Rip This nonetheless grabs your ears like a drunken biker in a bar fight, letting go long enough for you to pick yourself off the floor just in time to get pummeled again.

It may not displace Toro y Moi as Bundick's most satisfying project, but as an outlet for his dance music urges, Les Sins works very well.

Gilmour and Mason know this is their farewell, so they're saying goodbye not with a major statement but with a soft, bittersweet elegy that functions as a canny coda to their career.

Where the band's last effort was rooted in their past, Last Act of Defiance has its feet firmly planted in the present with a message that feels both important and timely, making for a solid album that shows Sick of It All aren't just going through the motions.

Devilish and delicious, the album can be precious to a fault, as following all the Queen-sized arrangements and all the Adam Lambert-esque sass isn't an everyday thing for most.

Blood In, Blood Out, much like Cannibal Corpse's 2014 offering Skeletal Domain, sounds remarkably dialed-in for a band so long in the tooth, and while it doesn't break any new ground for the stalwart rockers, it certainly does little to tarnish their reputation as thrash royalty.

A Minus the Bear record is fairly consistent, but given the quality of this band's output and the uniqueness of their sound, it comes as no surprise that not only are their cast-offs pretty solid, but that make for an oddly good album when strung together.

Below the Pink Pony doesn't always carve out a signature sound for the Fauntleroys, but there's a whole lot of talent in this band and they know how to make room for one another; hopefully there will be a full-length Fauntleroys album that will allow them to build on the impressive work they put in on this quick, dirty, and rewarding debut.

Ultimately, with Alix, Generationals deliver quirky, catchy pop songs that stick in your head like DayGlo bubblegum on a hot summer parking lot.

Almost all of this virtual grab bag's 12 songs go in slightly different directions, from the spoken-sung punk essay of the title track to cold lo-fi synth minimalism on "Psycho Structures" to a fairly straight-faced cover of Nancy Sinatra's country-rock classic "These Boots."

Ultimately, it’s Haerts' combination of straightforward, rootsy melodicism and more experimental, ambient inclinations that helps them grab your ear and your heart.

Even if there's a lingering predictability in the paths the Foo Fighters follow on Sonic Highways, they nevertheless know how to make this familiar journey pleasurable.

Brooks doesn't try to do anything differently; he just picks up where he left off and the time away has only made it clearer how he's different from all that came before and all that came since.

Fans who were drawn to 2:54's introspective blend the first time will see this as a natural continuation of their deepening, subtly changing world.