For all its sonic "ambition," Phosphorescent Harvest is a mess. It's a collection of songs without a unifying center.

Dawn Golden merges crushing emotional currents with innovative production for a debut that's bold and crisp, if somewhat harrowing in its darkest moments.

The album might scare off some fans who were reeled in by his perky pop songs, but it might find a home with those who like their pop seriously murky and gray.

While no attempt was made to faithfully imitate the Floyd versions, Haynes still skillfully echoed David Gilmour's elegant and graceful guitar style, while drummer Matt Abts turned "Have a Cigar" in a delightfully funky direction.

While it could be argued that listeners don't turn to Buckcherry for variety, it is nevertheless a welcome sign of inevitable maturity for these legendarily sleazy L.A. scuzz rockers.

Even though Tape Loops feels cold and wintry and with a hint of melancholy or regret, it's still a soothing, reflective, refreshing listen.

It has to be said that the overall experience is far from Yung's magnum opus, but it is the sound of a young band finding its feet in a meaningful way, breaking down past experiences, and creating a record that isn't restricted by preexisting ideas of youth.

Over There That Way doesn't seem like the obvious path Heliotropes could have taken after A Constant Sea, which is to its advantage, demonstrating Numsuwankijkul isn't just a one trick pony.

Ultimately, Friends is a focused, clear-eyed album that finds White Lies trading some of the sprawling ambition of Big TV for the infectious pop urgency of their debut.

It’s as consistent and bombastic as anything in their catalog--making it a good place to start for newcomers, too.

Sundara Karma have talent, ambition, and youth on their side, but so do a lot of other rising bands. In the end, it's personality and distinction that endure.

Lemon Memory is a subtle, yet solid step forward for Menace Beach as they move to separate themselves from a now-crowded field of '90s-indebted acts.

Trigger Complex is a late-career gem that's both resonant and a shit-ton of fun, and its lack of any sort of agenda is its greatest strength.

Tthis is a surprisingly listenable and emotive album, layering a wall of guitars, pounding drums, atmospheric textures, and a decent mix of bloody screaming and gang choruses.

Thanks to the sincerity and strong melodies that have been Maximo Park's mainstays since the beginning, Risk to Exist combines good intentions with good music.

Hatfield is a sharp record-maker, understanding when to let harmonies pile up and when to let analog keyboards set the tone, a gift that turns Juliana Hatfield Sings Olivia Newton-John into a sumptuous aural pleasure. The album is also compelling as a testament to the power of fandom, illustrating how this kind of love is sustaining and creatively nourishing.

At their best, Chromeo are a big, dumb party, the embodiment of guilty pleasure much like the cheesiest moments of the '80s hits they emulate. But a few choice songs, special guests, and Chromeo's studied arsenal of '80s signifiers can't keep Head Over Heels from growing tiresome, absent the hooks required to keep the party going.

In hindsight, it's possible to hear some of the profound loneliness of Liars' next album TFCF and the disorienting washes of Hemphill's subsequent work as Nonpareils in this score, and for that reason alone, 1/1 is more than just a commissioned work--as much as any one release from this band could, it sums up their approach and points the way forward.

Phantastic Ferniture shares a certain retro spirit and thoughtfulness with Jacklin's work as a singer/songwriter, even though others are involved in the writing here, and even when it's trying not to think too much.

For fans of this particular era, ShadowParty's debut offers welcome satisfaction, breathing new life into the familiar with fresh ideas and a freedom unhindered by the burden of the beloved acts from which they originated.

Balancing restraint with a keen ear for pop-friendly hooks inspired by Jack Antonoff, Dizzy manage to make quite the opening statement with Baby Teeth.

Love Me/Love Me Not is a conceptual step forward for Honne and a compact journey through the highs and lows of love, instantly relatable to anyone who's ever experienced such a human journey.

All of this works nicely, and reinforces the notion that at over twenty years into their career, Papa Roach are handling maturity pretty well.

With DNA, a revitalized Backstreet Boys exude an assured confidence, taking enough steps forward to continue their pop maturation without ignoring the hooks and harmonies that carried them all this way.

Simulcast could be thought of as the more "background music" version of Weather, but even without lyrics, it's still meant to put your mind in motion. Both versions are equally worth the roughly half-hour it takes to listen to each.

Thompson was a capable performer from the start, and Heartbreaker Please demonstrates he's improved with the passage of time, while his songwriting has also gained a depth that comes from a lived life.

It's not an ambitious album, nor one of Hayman's best, but it's as cozy and welcoming as its title suggests.

While it might seem like there's a little too much going on here, the top-notch production, artistic collaboration, and devotion to the space-age vibe results in a satisfying and unexpected gem.

The album stays in one lane for the majority of its tracks, with only a few divergences from competitive flexing about wealth or sexual antics for more emotionally reflective tracks. With songs as infectious and as goofy as the smooth, midtempo trap blast "Drankin N Smokin," however, there are no complaints about how Pluto X Baby Pluto keeps the party going.

Bodies is one of the stronger offerings from AFI's late era, stirring both the physical and emotional with urgency and heart.

The polish and punch of latter-day Dan remain, but things are indeed different. Becker's tart presence is missed, Fagen's voice is wispy, and the smooth professionalism does indeed seem as if it was designed to feel at home at venues like the Mohegan Sun casino.

If Good to Be... sometimes is a little too cozy -- it's executed well and its unifying spirit is evident, but a cover of "Lean on Me" still feels a little overly familiar -- it's nevertheless a warm, welcoming album that's every bit as soothing and comforting as Keb' Mo' intended it to be.

TV Priest are still working on an individual sound judging from My Other People, and at the same time they're growing into a more accomplished and interesting band; their obvious talent makes them an act only a fool would ignore.

While Mercury kept their hit streak going and matured the band with a welcome vulnerability, longtime fans of their aggressive empowerment anthems will delight in this pseudo-"return to form" from the Vegas quartet, one of their most satisfying and immediate sets to date.

If it's possible to be fun and tedious at the same time, Lady on the Cusp fits the bill.

One of those songs, "Daisies," also involves the unmistakable Mk.gee, and for Bieber it's a career highlight, a gentle rocker conveying an ultra-rare combination of anticipation, patience, and empathy. More often, Bieber's direct and inelegant wordplay is at odds with the hazy sonics.

While Magic Hour may not be as satisfying to fans who just wanna dance as albums like Night Work and Scissor Sisters were, it should please those who enjoy the band's formidable songwriting skills as much as cutting a rug.

Add the way "Roadblox" provides the cinematic side of Prodigy that's often overlooked and the album seems a triumph, but lead single "Nasty" is a lesser "Firestarter" and at 14 cuts, this chunky effort is built for returning fan club members and not the EP-craving EDM crowd.

Radio Wars demands its listeners heed that siren song, and it's truthfully hard to resist.

While Live Music sometimes feels a little too rambling for its own good, the growth the band shows is even more impressive because it seems so effortless.

From the Valley to the Stars is a fairly magical trip to the center of heartache.

Artificial Sweeteners may not be their most instantly impressive album, 2008's Lightbulbs still has that honor, but it does sound great on first listen and continues to sink in deeper with each subsequent spin.

A straight play, from start to end, the album thrives on the hypnotic rhythmic drive of Krautrockers like Neu!, with bulky synth riffs that make many of the songs sound like the intro to Van Halen's version of "Dancing in the Streets," or Jan Hammer's "Theme from Miami Vice," only beefed up, elongated, and entangled in guitar delays.

The rest of the album, despite a few detours into semi-indulgent, atonal glitch that shakes the fluidity of the record yet never really derails the train, keeps looking forward, hoping to find a light at the end of the tunnel, while knowing full well that it's only the first of many.

Chances are, Extended Vacation won't rope in fans of Gray's and Kotche's respective bands Wilco and Gastr del Sol, since it's a far cry from alt-country or math rock, but those looking for something that's avant-garde but fairly easy to digest might find this minimalist mood piece strangely soothing.

Unexpected simply feels like a leap more than a step.

Human is nothing if not a serious album, not to mention the least enjoyable release in Brandy's catalog. But it could very well be her most useful one.

This focus on approachability over impenetrability makes Dreams Come True not only a welcoming debut, but a fantastic entry point into the more experimental side of electronic music.

An exciting introduction to an extraordinary artist captured at just the right time.

Rituals oozes dread, but ultimately it's that contrast between finery and paranoia that makes it so vital.

Unlike his earlier recordings, there's little here that rewards close listening.

A mixed bag.

The appropriately titled Tender Madness, more or less backs that notion [go big or go home] up with 12 emotionally charged slabs of Foster the People- and Killers-infused highway anthems, of both the fist-pumping and soul-searching varieties, that flirt with mainstream architecture yet retain enough of a ramshackle, post-slacker luster to appeal to fans of Weiss' previous outfit.

Cunningly sequenced, The Ways We Separate is exceptionally fluid and tightly bound, made for compulsive listening with no weak links.

For enthusiasts or obsessive fans, this unpolished look in will be a treat, but for everyone else, the album is not without its highlights but little more than a glorified practice tape.

Throughout, the album's stories, turns of phrase, and underdog romanticism loom even larger than its melodies, but what leaves the biggest impression is that barely restrained revelry.

Scorpion doesn't even come close to being one of his best; instead, it's a one-trick record stretched out into 25 endless tracks by an artist who's so deep into the self-obsessed, self-pitying rut he created for himself that he can't see daylight anymore.

Given that Furler didn't originally plan to make these songs her own, it's impressive that This Is Acting works as well as it does--only the wannabe banger "Move Your Body" and "Sweet Design"'s flashy, hard-hitting R&B are truly unconvincing. For the most part, however, This Is Acting's meta-pop is another example of how cleverly Sia brings her her experiments into the mainstream.

Loaded with pop culture commentary and often directly naming social names, The Ecleftic is sure to stir up some emotions from not only the famous, but from the general public as well.

The album is refreshingly spare, especially in light of the lofty production work Schlarb got into previously. However, as nice as these low-key guitar wanderings are initially, the longer pieces drag on into aimlessness and never really reach for any resolution or greater narrative.

While Nine is by no means a dour emo record, it carries enough emotional heft to elevate it as one of blink-182's strongest late-era efforts, one that matures the typical blink sound with its commitment to vulnerability and honesty.

The resultant sound is smooth, classy, and subtle--a sonic horse of a different color from the exquisitely ramshackle earthiness that made "Stardust" so appealing and unusual.

With Geist, Stagnant Pools haven't made any leaps forward, more like a small step backward into something even more interesting and powerful than before.

Though some Elf Power fans may be satisfied with the few songs that are reminiscent of the band's previous records ("The World Is Waiting," "23rd Dream") and the abstract, occasionally prog-like references to masters and kings, others may be disappointed, or at least confused, by the focus on experimenting with dark, Middle Eastern-inspired drones mixed with Western pop/folk sensibilities.

Cuts like "The City," "Chocolate," and "Sex" drive and climb like the best anthemic '80s stadium rock, roiling a host of influences into a single distinct sound that, the moment it hits your ears, becomes timeless.

Aphrodite is the work of someone who knows exactly what her skills are and who to hire to help showcase them to perfection.

Sonically, it's the Submarines' most interesting record to date. Melodically, it's a bit spottier than usual, relying heavily on a handful of highlights to shoulder the weight of the saggier numbers.

Doherty's solo career has resulted in some of his most rewarding music even if it's not the most attention-getting, and fans who have stuck with him this long will find a lot to enjoy on Hamburg Demonstrations.

Loyal hip-hop heads with a taste for the old-school boom-bap shouldn't think twice and won't be disappointed.

Memphis is the most thrilling debut album since the Apples in Stereo's Fun Trick Noisemaker and should be embraced by anyone who likes pop music that sounds small but thinks big. These kids truly have some magic in them.

A great night for folkies, an instructive listen for hipsters with an interest in the '60s folk scene, and proof that Joel and Ethan Coen's cultural influence takes on many remarkable forms.

Lean, hard, strong, and memorable, a record that finds Audioslave coming into its own as a real rock band.

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.

It's not unfair to say Strange Wilds are a bit derivative, but they also do right by their influences, and they unleash a cranked-up onslaught that's tight and ferocious, with a judicious use of dynamics and an effective application of the traditional cheap Fender guitar run through the right effects boxes.

Whereas The Light the Dead See was a simple addition of Gahan's lyrics to the Soulsavers' music, this is a fully cohesive collaboration, with both artists sharing songwriting credits on all songs.

The result is terrific, a record that builds upon the group's legacy and is easily the equal of anything the band did in the '90s.

It's rare that someone has an idea this good and unique in the first place, double rare when someone can keep going back to that same idea and find new ways to express it. In that regard, Sweatbox Dynasty is another oddball triumph for a one-of-a-kind artist.

Yours Truly is more cohesive than many of those past albums, a comforting hybrid of west coast beauty and stark, isolationist expanse that bodes well for his solo career.

Strange Weather may get some static for not being groundbreaking or risk taking but that's okay. It's just !!! at their best and that's good enough.

These songs all feel like a score, and that's not necessarily a good thing. They all seem to be of a piece, but musically there isn't enough imagination to distinguish them, to set the tension of dynamic in motion.

The combination of the raw, tempestuous styles, Barnes' own capricious musical tendencies, and the regrettable subject matter of Aureate Gloom has Of Montreal at its rockiest and most intense.

This is endearing -- Hot Chip's sense of humor is as contagious as their knack for reinvention is obvious. But those traits can't make Coming on Strong sound any less unfinished or even tossed off at times.

There's a smattering of solid material here, but it's a lateral move at best, and for fans, it's hard not to wish for something more focused, more personal, and more notable.

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.

Occasionally, the album's spare, simple approach feels chilly and monotonous, but when it all comes together, as on the percolating, insistent "Your Moves Are Mine,"Attention reveals itself as a stylish, strangely romantic collection of club music.

This bold recording is a jazz record made with care, creativity, and a wonderfully intimate aesthetic fueling its 12 songs.

Unfortunately, the album doesn't quite measure up to its hype and should disappoint those expecting Ludacris to top his past successes.

Maybe it is too much to ask for Trinity to be as good and surprising and full of life as Dutty Rock; maybe it is unfair to ask Paul to catch lightning in a bottle twice. Probably so, but it's still disappointing for Trinity to be as empty and unenjoyable as it is.

Hypnotic Nights still delivers all of the brilliant power pop worship that we've all come to love from JEFF the Brotherhood, and if the album isn't able to kick off your summer, nothing will.

Though Infinity Overhead isn't exactly a return to form for Minus the Bear, it does find them moving back toward what they do best, and is a step in a promising direction for fans hoping for the band to return to the more vigorous sound of Menos el Oso.

The experience of this album is to have listened to an Elliott Smith record and not an Avett project or to anyone else--a testament to Smith, certainly, but also to Avett and Mayfield's tasteful if fail-safe renditions.

Sting sifts through familiar territory with songs of protest sitting alongside songs of yearning and love and it all adds up to record that's simultaneously unassuming and revealing: through its modest nature, 57th & 9th stands as testaments to Sting's inherent gifts as a songwriter and recordmaker.

Having the songs preserved on record undercuts that intention slightly but this is still an odd, delightful collection of tunes and it's nice that non-musicians--and listeners with an aversion to homemade YouTube renditions--get to hear these now too.

The affection that Sweet, Hoffs and company display for this music is the reason to hear this record: they're having such a good time playing their favorite songs, it's hard not to smile along as well.

While that inspired recklessness is missed, this brisk, cheerful collection of pop is a relief after the operatic ambitions of 21st Century Breakdown.

Devising a new way of playing heavy music is nothing if not a brave undertaking, and Hexadic rewards significantly with each repeated listen.

Despite it missing the fire of his first record, it's a worthy piece of work.

Toher's music has become more powerful as he's made it more delicate, and Wuthering Drum is a compelling debut that casts a lingering spell.