For their third studio album...Megafaun dial back the more progressive elements of their sound in favor of a languid, Laurel Canyon-inspired foundation that treads the middle ground between Blitzen Trapper's experimental, neo-Southern rock romancing, and Will Oldham's post-Palace Music infatuation with American Beauty-era Grateful Dead.

It's the type of album that can be enjoyed on the surface, as pleasant background listening, or as a deeply immersive experience.

Mockingbird Time is a simple but richly rewarding example of what the Jayhawks do better than anyone, and serves as a potent reminder that they're one of the finest American bands of their time.

Perhaps blink could stand to sharpen their words but it's better that they concentrated on their music, creating a fairly ridiculous yet mildly compelling prog-punk spin on the suburbs here.

Take a couple listens, let it sink in, and then discover that Cole World is one hell of a debut.

It's the Mekons' most accomplished bit of record making in some time.

It's an album that doesn't really need to peak, as it never promises a thing it can't back up, boldly and loudly.

4everevolution is an appropriately titled, subtle progression which proves that intelligent hip-hop and accessible urban pop don't have to be mutually exclusive, and in the process, Roots Manuva has produced his best record since his 2001 breakthrough, Run Come Save Me.

If Jones' performances and compositions over the years have touched on themes of yearning and the past, with a soft echo into the present day, then it stand all the more to reason why the album title and the cover art--a guitar-playing cat, looking at the moon--should sum up the feeling of The Wanting so well.

Except for the occasionally bumpy ride, though, The Less You Know, The Better is one of the most entertaining albums of the year, with countless moments of brilliance.

Keeping such a schizophrenic affair entertaining and connected is a feat in itself, and Spank Rock's second album shows that, despite long odds, Juwan can succeed on his own terms.

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.

Clash Battle Guilt Pride digs deeper with each listen, especially thanks to a maturity that gives Stadt's sandpapered lyrics more emotional pull, makes the songs more memorable, and ultimately, begs just one more listen.

While Conatus isn't as direct as Stridulum, it's still some of her most satisfying work.

A quietly remarkable debut, The Year of Hibernation is equally suited to hiding underneath the covers and throwing them off to face the day.

Everything's easy and natural, and the Stepkids sound more like purveyors of the genre than imitators. Quite an accomplishment.

The result is a strong, confident record that's his best solo effort to date.

After three more amorphous recordings, Trust Now reveals a mature, realized Prince Rama sound, at once intoxicating and beguiling.

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

Their darkest and most complex work yet, In the Pit of the Stomach unleashes We Were Promised Jetpacks' full fury with impressive results.

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.

Given that the core members are composer Dustin O'Halloran and Stars of the Lid veteran Adam Wiltzie, it's little surprise that both those conventions, and how to work well beyond them, are within their grasp on this debut release.

Educational and emotional in a uniquely approachable way, these songs are a lovely part of a bigger picture.

[The second version of Just in Love is] a minor blip on an otherwise immensely entertaining and enjoyable pop record--inspired, tons of fun, and positioning Joe Jonas as a worthy successor to Justin.

Violent Hearts is a resoundingly successful debut that puts the band right at the front of the line of all the reverb-heavy, backward-looking indie pop bands that overran the music scene like seagulls on the beach at low tide in the early part of the decade.

Ghost to a Ghost/Gutter Town is easily the purest expression of Hank3's crazed country vision to date, and anyone who's followed his wild ride owes it to themselves to give it a listen.

Ultimately, Beautiful Rivers and Mountains is more than a mere curiosity piece; for all its easy-to-recognize styles, Shin's way of enmeshing them into something original underscores rather than erases their strangeness and splendor--even to widely exposed Western ears--making this is an excellent introduction to his work.

Behind the Parade is another superior album from one of rock's true unsung heroes, and chances are it will sound just as vital and exciting two decades hence as it does today.

With Telecasters and drums driving, and Valenzuela's mariachi trumpet singing above it, it's a cracking way to close an album that defines what Americana is.

High Places' third album finds the duo of Rob Barber and Mary Pearson all the more comfortable and assured in a realm of moody electronic pop for the 21st century, at once drawing on familiar roots and putting distinct, enjoyable spins on the results.

It's a testament to Hawthorne's songwriting ability that this wall is easily scaled after one or two listens, and that the man sounds more natural and loose than on his debut might be this album's greatest asset, making the vulgar drops and other nods to the present feel less mannered than before.

Bad as Me is an aural portrait of all the places he's traveled as a recording artist, which is, in and of itself, illuminating and thoroughly enjoyable.

The album deliver psychedelic pop with an expansive, cinematic feeling, letting listeners get lost in its slow, drifting melodies.

Although the album seems like silly fun on the surface, there is enough complexity to the interlocking synth lines and clattering rhythms to give the music some weight.

A well-balanced marriage of all of Phonte's musical inclinations.

It may not be as pretty as Red Devil Dawn or as road trip-ready as Forfeit/Fortune, but Breaks in the Armor has got more gas in the tank than either of them.

While it may not be quite as striking as Saturdays = Youth, it delivers a welcome mix of classic sounds and promising changes.

Ultimately, comparing For True to Backatown is pointless: they are of a piece. While you may prefer one over the other, they are, in essence, two parts of a compelling and dynamic musical aesthetic that is firmly in and of the 21st century, as they look back at history and forward to create it.

Luckily, the majority of Gracious Tide, Take Me Home plays to the band's beautifully swooning strengths, and in doing so, produces one of the most majestic debuts from a British act this year.

As life seems to move at an ever-faster pace and information threatens to overload, Breakers offers an uneasy but welcome respite if we just take the time to listen.

Red is a strong step forward for a very promising band that arrived with an intriguing voice already established and has now made it even richer and more interesting.

Loyal fans of underground hip-hop already know he's earned that crown on the cover, and with this purposefully packaged showcase now in place, the uninitiated have no excuse.

Solid yet understated, it's Hannigan's obvious gift for melody, tasteful arrangements, and remarkably emotive elocution (when her voice breaks, the heart follows suit) that keeps Passenger afloat, while the world schemes and churns beneath.

The warm, fuzzy melodies take hold almost instantly.

Four Tet's entry in the Fabriclive series plays things surprisingly straight, largely limiting his selections to a narrow stripe of electronic dance music, and for the most part linking them together in a reasonably smooth, utilitarian fashion.

Lydia Loveless' Indestructible Machine possesses a classicist's grip of country, a rock & roll sense of swagger, and the keen eye of a songwriter twice her age.

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

It's almost one high point after another.

Audio, Video, Disco might just be the quintessential example of pop music in the Internet world where everything is available, and available to shuffle, but the main point is good times, great record.

Songs like this--imaginative, contemplative, densely wordy, slightly silly but unflinchingly earnest--are arguably Lewis' strongest suit, especially in his recent work, and if the instances on A Turn in the Dream-Songs aren't quite as striking as those on its predecessor, the album still ranks right up there among his best.

Certainly, part of the variety is down to the multitude of producers and writers on Stronger, but the album's success is entirely due to Kelly Clarkson, whose personality and professionalism turns it into her best album since her Breakaway breakthrough in 2004.

The album is not just the best country has to offer (if the genre were modeled on his standard, its radio stations would be difficult to turn off), but more: it's the best that pop music has to offer, too.

A brief but powerful statement, Mount Wittenberg Orca brings remarkably creative artists together for a good cause, and ends up bringing out the best in all of them in the process.

It proves McBride has plenty to offer an entirely new audience, and showcases her transition from country singer to skillful performer of elegant, hooky, adult contemporary, pop/rock music.

If you're a fan, it's a classy slice of nostalgia.

A firm step forward on all fronts, Bright and Vivid is a thoroughly engaging listen and establishes Calder as a creative force and pop craftsperson every bit as worthy as her big-deal bandmates.

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.

As far as why it all hangs together so well, credit goes to Wale's talent and his strong personality, which here has grown into an interesting combination of Lil Wayne and Plies, with a little 50 Cent smirk and bit of Drake's phrasing thrown in for good measure.

While Lost in the Glare is, without question, an instantly recognizable Barn Owl offering and employs their now signature elements, it moves into a welcomed, previously uncharted sonic and psychic terrain.

In Animal Tongue is not an easy listen, but it wasn't meant to be. Rather it investigates, explores, and experiments to open-ended conclusions, and to that end, it succeeds magnificently.

It's a quietly satisfying album with a determined fragility that makes it all the more moving.

It's rare that that source material is specifically evident while listening; at best it functions on a more energetic, subconscious level, making the typically nebulous sonic nostalgia of the chillwave/hypnagogic pop movement.

It's a fitting album that sums up and shines a light on all the things that make/made the band so enthralling.

It's one of the most consistently satisfying albums of his career, and sounds more like the proper follow-up to the excellent Here Comes the Groom than anything he's made since.

XXX is a bloated album; 19-track albums are a thing of the early millennium past. But this bloat is a gluttonous glory.

From its unconventional treatment of electronic music to its emotionally raw songwriting, visiting The Sea of Memories is well worth the journey.

While Take Care's charms may be a little more hidden, with a couple exceptions, than Thank Me Later's were, repeated plays reveal a record that is just as strong and more powerful emotionally.

Producers Shawty Redd, Nottz, and A-Traxx all contribute bottom-heavy stunners while West, Diddy, Juicy J, and Young Jeezy add the right amount of outside influence, making this just a tad more "fun" than your usual casket drop from Clipse.

They may never make a record as unhinged and beautiful as Hold on Now, Youngster..., but if they keep making records as tough and exciting as Hello Sadness, Los Campesinos! will always be worth keeping up with.

The benefit of a comp is that it's totally possible, even welcome, to downplay dull lapses like Around the Sun--and, when combined with well-chosen highlights from the band's powerful first two acts, adds up to a thorough narrative of R.E.M.'s entire career.

In all, it represents a beautiful set of ambience from one of the form's masters.

Camp is like the Drake, Cudi, and Kweli camps all offered their best, but it's really just Glover and his overwhelming bundle of talent, taking indie hip-hop to new levels after spending the day working alongside Chevy Chase.

The end result is a half-hour of good, giddy fun that leaves you with a slightly strange taste in your mouth, and that's probably just right.

This is the best solo record by an indie rock guitarist since Carl Broemel's All Birds Say, proof that Ramsey's career has more than enough horsepower on its own.

Even amidst dissonant notes or loopy time signatures, a catchy hook or two usually surfaced.

Your Past Comes Back to Haunt You: The Fonotone Years, 1958-1965 is a massive John Fahey document that was a full decade in the making by Dean Blackwood of Revenant, guitarist Glenn Jones, and Lance Ledbetter of Dust-to-Digital.

While it shares sheer ambition with Scott Walker's The Drift and PJ Harvey's Let England Shake, it sounds like neither; Bush's album is equally startling because its will toward the mysterious and elliptical is balanced by its beguiling accessibility.

Miller's big challenge is that he follows in a long line of suburban college rappers who have thrown up whack mixtapes like they were yesterday's punch bowl, but this memorable debut steps right around that mess and suggests that the kids are not just all right, but all the way live.

Diehards and newbies alike will revel in its weird, wild well-roundedness.

The Singing Mailman Delivers doesn't do much to rewrite Prine's early history, but it confirms he revealed a remarkable talent as soon as he put his mind to writing songs, and it's an entertaining addition to his catalog for longtime fans.

Taken as pieces or as a whole, the album is easily the equal of anything their contemporaries have released and an exhilaratingly chilled-out listen from start to finish that will warm up even the longest winter night.

This is one of those very rare electronica albums that actually rewards deep and repeated listening.

Scuba has achieved something hard to define with this mix program, and that's part of what makes it so enjoyable.

This blend of driving riffage and suffocating relentlessness allows the band to strike a fine balance between freewheeling guitar worship and oppressive gloom.

There's an argument to made that Yelawolf's entry into the world of official releases is a bit too cluttered with distractions -- stars, prime beats, and big-time hooks -- to be considered a proper showcase, but when given room, he shines through.

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.

And even though it's a more emotionally heavy album than a lot of his previous work, Coulton still knows how to leave people with a smile, ending the album with two new versions of his famous Portal and Portal 2 theme songs.

Treefight for Sunlight's debut is a triumph of sun-drenched ecstatic pop that leaves listeners with an arsenal of hooks in their heads, eager to hear what the band will come up with next.

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

It's a fine introduction to the multifaceted pleasures of Gorillaz.

Beautifully recorded and performed, Live at the Royal Albert Hall conveys all the drama of Adele's music and is the perfect companion piece to 21.

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.

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.

Hollandaze is an impressive debut.

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.

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.