The Raven That Refused to Sing and Other Stories is the best of Wilson's three solo projects; let's hope this particular group stays together awhile.

The album could have been pared down a bit, yet it's a drop in a bucket for Booth and Brown. Prior to this, their discography clocked in at 18 hours or so. What's another two hours?

As much as Mogwai are known for defining post-rock's sound, they're just as good at defying expectations, which Les Revenants does with an intimate, low-key brilliance.

Black Sun is an infectious, dance-oriented release that summons the new romantic spirit, if not the moussed hair and neon blush, of such '80s bands as Duran Duran, ABC, and Spandau Ballet.

Somehow managing to sound minimal and controlled even when claustrophobically arranged with ever-shifting sounds, Images du Futur improves on Suuns debut and goes even deeper into the dark sounds they've been developing and perfecting as they go.

In the main, the purpose is bedroom listening, though the tone is so bright that daytime play seems most suitable. The lyrics are packed with metaphors, yet they are expressed in a heartrending and inviting manner.

Halfway through, Girl Who Got Away sucks you into its sway, its comforts as alluring as they are elusive.

Golden Grrrls (despite actually having a bad name) made an album that embodies the best things about C-86-derived indie pop (warmth, innocence, honesty, community) and doesn't skimp on songs that make you want to get up and jump around the room with a big silly grin on your face.

While more accessible than most of his previous work, the three pieces here are just as tormented, in particular the septic relentlessness of the 18-minute title track.

Low give us a definitive chapter for where they are presently, and present it with more clarity and joy than we've heard from them in some time.

Fortunately for fans of their punishing past, New Moon smoothes out the edges without getting rid of them completely, leaving just enough rough patches here and there to remind listeners that there's still plenty of muscle hiding just below their languid façade.

The album sometimes amazingly sounds as if the Zombies had reunited in 1980 for an album produced by the Buggles' Trevor Horn, resulting in a joyful, 50-minute orgasm of chamber pop jubilation.

Welcome Oblivion is not an album that comes on forcefully, and by many measures, it's the most measured record of Reznor's career, yet it's also his most melodic, showing that this former angry young man has a design to grow old gracefully.

Honky Tonk is country facing forward informed by the past.

Hymnal's serene beauty may make it his most sublime music yet.

Added up, it's a departure for sure, but it's a swerve that's easy to follow.

Everything comes together perfectly on Lady, from beginning to end it's a dream come true for lovers of classic soul; if it had been released in 1970, it would considered a timeless classic, talked about in the kind of reverent tones reserved for Lady Soul or What's Going On.

The stories of grim wedding scenes, hospital visits, and the various disappointments of daily life are all harrowing and intense, but Crutchfield's deft arrangement of lyrical details and their slow-release impact keeps the darkness from ever coming off as self-indulgent.

This set is a stunner. Scaggs is in full possession of that iconic voice; he delivers songs with an endemic empathy and intimacy that make them sound like living, breathing stories.

What is clear, even through the sometimes heavier-than-necessary arrangements, is that Muchacho has some of Houck's best songwriting since his early days, seemingly tapped into the grainy pain, hard-living tendencies, and wandering muse of his subconscious with the most listenable results Phosphorescent has produced in years.

What's clear about Hurts on Exile is how skilled Hutchcraft and Anderson are at seamlessly incorporating their influences, so you can hear the bands' inspirations in every line even as you marvel that this album is like nothing you've heard before.

Eternity of Dimming is a beautiful, nostalgic (in the best meaning of the word) hymn to time and place, a long suite of songs that falls together like a wonderful quilt of memories.

No other artist combined such strong streetwise attitude with disarming warmth. She did it from start to finish.

For Now I Am Winter, effortlessly incorporates elements of pop into the budding singer/songwriter's already evocative blend of wistful neo-classicism and icy electronica.

The four-song EP Punk Authority, Swanson's third release in the technoise vein, is some of his most punishing and relentless material to date.

Never once do they sound desperate on Bloodsports; they sound confident, and comfortable in the knowledge that this is where they all should be.

The album closes as strongly as it begins with "Miami Titles," a thrilling orchestra-hall-meets-club synthesis from a trio that draws from Mahler, Reich, Mills, and Hood as if they're all part of the same lineage.

The Blue Room is a brave experiment, but one that pays off handsomely.

Burdon pours everything into this album, as if he realizes this is his last best shot to get the credit he's due. And, against all odds, he succeeds with this tough, flinty, proudly old-fashioned rock & roll album.

Water on Mars is unexpectedly hooky, taking just enough from the catchy '90s alterna-pop it borrows from to root the songs in the listener's mind, but offering enough of Polizze's own voice to keep it from being a mere throwback.

Wyoming is a bright and promising collection of secretly wrecked songs, and leaves us curious to see how Water Liars will continue to grow as they walk their thorny path.

The best Delfonics album since 1970.

Poignant yet triumphant and joyful in tone, the cover [Call's "Let the Day Begin"], as with all of Specter at the Feast, stands as both a heartfelt tribute to their bandmate and a rallying cry for moving forward.

Hagar's Song finds Lloyd and Moran at their most naturally curious and deeply attentive best, offering a conversation so intimate the listener may occasionally feel she is eavesdropping.

Some moments it's hard to ignore how much he sounds like his father, and at times, the genuflection at the altar of Elliott Smith gets a little too doe-eyed and derivative, but the strengths of Simon's songwriting and the atmospheric production keep these concerns in the background of a colorful and evocative bigger picture.

Invisible Life reaffirms that Lange can keep that quality, regardless of which direction he takes Helado Negro in next.

The Strokes' most mature music yet, Comedown Machine is a solidly enjoyable album, even if it lacks some of the band's previous spark.

Musgraves has a sense of humor, too, and all of these traits add up to make Same Trailer Different Park more than a collection of songs just aiming for the country charts.

The eight tracks here are more high definition than most of what he's done in his career, with all the various noisy elements easily distinguishable and with more depth than usual.

KEN mode have arrived to put on a clinic in muscular, unfiltered anger with their fifth album, Entrench.

While the mix is strong throughout, its beginning and end are particularly captivating.

The Impossible Truth is more accessible than Behold the Spirit, but it is easily as adventurous, taking hold of places, spaces, and sounds, reimagining them and altering them just enough to make the entire recording sound at once immediately familiar and somehow wholly other.

Change Becomes Us is more than just a rehash or compare-and-contrast exercise; these songs sound great in their own right.

[The cover of Rod McKuen's "Love's Been Good to Me" is] a weak ending to an otherwise wonderful album that shows that Collins is truly back in command of his art.

A beautiful, if at times exhausting album, The Golden Age shows Lemoine is skilled at making music as well as music videos.

A skillful balance of harshness and beauty, Discipline + Desire is a welcome reintroduction to a band that is among the best at keeping this sound not just alive, but vital.

An exciting debut, Sleeper is a rawer, deeper album than might have been expected, full of music that's more daring and more rewarding than the work of many artists without the baggage attached to Villain's background.

It's a rare occurrence to have something so academic and clearly considered come off as playful and laid-back as these songs do, but the layers of instruments never outshine the glowing optimism and simple joy of Lynch's songwriting.

American Twilight is more than just a triumphant comeback by C&CS--who were not fully appreciated for their uniqueness the first time around--it is a literate, sprawling, bruising rock & roll record that convincingly addresses the crises we face--cultural, spiritual, integral--and the choices we make.

Green may not be a sonic wizard, and her songs may cover familiar topics in a familiar way, but she fills the album with songs you'll be humming to yourself all day long, adding to mixes, and sharing with friends who are into weird pop-punk, and that's what's most important in the end.

It's not easy to face up to and present the worst parts of being alive, much less in a way that's artistically pleasing or relevant. The Lips don't make it sound easy, which is why The Terror is so powerful.

Fine song structure and an overall album flow that's nearly perfect are things Bonobo regulars might expect at this point, but his discography hasn’t offered up a rainy day soundtrack so fitting until this one, so hope the weatherman has bad news and plan on staying in.

The album is more daring and creative than Kosi Comes Around, a straightforward offering in a comparative sense.

A confident, delightfully quirky, and endlessly inventive band having fun and delivering a kind of lightly experimental sunshine pop for the 21st century, complete with huge choruses, xylophones and trinkets, maverick rhythms, and a charming, fun spirit of adventure.

A Mudhoney album through and through: no outright surprises sonically, but beneath the roar it's hard not to admire how their perennial piss-takes are subtly deepening and how their saturated superfuzz always sounds so good.

All in all, UFO is another valuable addition to their canon, completed with skill and affection in equal measure.

Bring Me the Horizon have been working slowly but surely to refine their sound for years now, and with Sempiternal, it feels like their patience and hard work are finally beginning to pay dividends.

Victim of Love showcases growth--and a sound not heard before on Daptone--while not straying from the gritty soul that established the singer; it is every bit as strong as its predecessor and more diverse.

Shaking the Habitual isn't as cohesive or accessible as Silent Shout, and after experiencing the whole thing, fans may not return to it often, but it's hard to deny that it's an often stunning work of art.

Bringing the scale back down to something human while injecting some jazz and sunshine into the I&W sound proves to be a very good strategy for Beam, and it makes Ghost on Ghost one of the most satisfying albums the group has done to date.

Filled end to end with grindcore insanity and covered in a sheen of sonic grime (thanks to Converge guitarist and engineer extraordinaire Kurt Ballou), the album is an exercise in relentlessness, offering no quarter and asking for none in return as it stampedes from track to track on a merciless metal rampage.

Bankrupt! isn't nearly as devoid of new ideas as its title suggests, but it doesn't feel like quite the leap forward Wolfgang was compared to what came before it. Not that it necessarily needs to be.

The album is unique in that it gives a very personal look into an individual's experience with catharsis, and it's one more of murmurs and heavy sighs than screaming matches and broken dishes.

The duo [are] at the top their game, effortlessly weaving the past into the future (and vice-versa) with undeniable skill and refreshing amounts of empathy.

Throughout these songs, Taylor's lyrics and the grain in his voice reveal that, whatever truths there are in these songs, they come from antiquity, and the land itself, which is an extension of the divine.

Those who blew their minds and/or speakers pumping the project's 2009 debut will find it familiar ground, but how Free the Universe arguably tops Guns Don't Kill People... Lazers Do is with the meatier, more subdued cuts.

Cruise Your Illusion holds enough of the band's personality to keep them from being a '90s cover band, but at times, the weight of their ragged influences sits heavy enough on the songs to obscure their most original aspects.

Live at the Gluepot is a crucially important document for fans of New Zealand's fabled indie pop heyday, but anyone who likes good, heavily snarky rock & roll will appreciate this recording of Toy Love going out in a blaze of glory.

Easily his most focused and accessible work, Pretty Daze is the strongest so far in a chain of releases that seem to suggest there are even greater heights to be reached.

This is a solid debut, made by a band that arrives fully formed and has a great future.

It feels like a natural step, consequently expanding the margins of Malian roots music and rock and pop simultaneously.

Cyclops Reap may be the best place for newcomers to start, but anyone who's been along for the ride since the beginning will be thrilled to hear Presley's (slight) progression.

Measured, melancholy, and mysterious, Jones' debut as a singer/songwriter is as subtle as it is striking, skillfully marrying the sedate melancholy of Elliott Smith with the sly, darkly comic lyricism of The National.

House of Love are comfortable in their skin without being complacent, sounding happy, even grateful, to be writing and playing again, winding up with a record that stands alongside their '80s and '90s work quite nicely.

The band takes risks, incorporating styles like rockabilly and classic rock into its punk fusion in a way that's dizzying but never disconcerting.

This may be his most consistent offering since El Corazón.

Like its namesake phenomenon, Recurring Dream's songs are a fascinating mix of elusiveness and inevitability that only grows richer with repeated listening.

Hard to stack up to the wonder years this far into their career, but Rat Farm comes darn close, and the tracks on their 14th outing are the closest they've come in a long time to the colorful, no-frills brand of twangy alt-rock and informal punk (with hints of Americana, country, folk, and prog) that they instilled on their SST records.

Since quite a few of these songs were already road-tested, it's not surprising that this is a strong debut, but just how consistently catchy and personal True Romance is might raise a few eyebrows.

The huge accomplishment of Desperate Ground is this ability to grow up some without slowing down; but quite the opposite, the Thermals return to form with this scrappy collection, blazing through serious topics but never dropping the tempo long enough to get overwrought or self-indulgent.

It's undeniable that the album takes his gift for channeling dread in subtler, more complex directions and deserves to be listened to under headphones in total darkness.

Edited down from performances in London, Melbourne, and New York City, the 15 tracks that populate the lovely and inspiring Way To Blue: The Songs of Nick Drake feel far more intimate than the live tag would suggest.

At times, Letherette gives the impression of being on the fringes of a big party, moving in and out of the action as the mood strikes--and it's this mood, sophisticated but not overly mannered, that makes the album so listenable.

It's short and limited, but it's well crafted and strong, and a worthy alternative to RZA's Man with the Iron Fists soundtrack done with some wild, Wallabee Kingpin spin.

A fuller, more focused version of the sound they introduced on Fields, this set of songs is worthy of being Junip's namesake album.

It is yet another in a string of excellent releases by her, but it's also something more. It integrates everywhere Richey's been yet inhabits a terrain completely of her own design.

Here on The Still Life she has begun to solidify and challenge her undoubted songwriting ability.

Top of the Pops is a thorough and lovingly compiled set, and it's only fitting that a band as incredibly geeky about music and pop culture as Art Brut is should get the deluxe treatment.

This grandiose set of songs cobbled together from decaying sound scraps has all the ominous mystery and majesty of a silent twilight, and all the implied struggle of the abandoned structures where and from which it was created.

Spring and Fall is a record for heartaches and healing, another understated gem from a singer/songwriter whose catalog is littered with them.

These are languid, gorgeously crafted tracks that find the band delving even deeper than on Shapeshifting into an atmospheric, slow-burn aesthetic that holds up on repeated listens.

Liberated from the weight of their history, they're just ready to rock while they still can, and that's why Ready to Die is, against all odds, a terrific Stooges album.

OK, it may not be not that timeless, but it's still high quality work from a youngster who is off to a fine start in the indie rock game.

This is a wonderfully entertaining collection of pop songs that just happen to be well-versed in history and political and economic theories.

X'ed Out is more fleshed-out, listenable, and revelatory than one could ever expect.

To Dust is body music for the spirit, a celebration of all that is human. It is the record that should finally put her over to a mass audience.

This is just one of those albums that works great either as a stoney throwback or a party-starter.

With New History Warfare, Vol. 3, Stetson explores scorched landscapes and heavenly scenes alike with his stylized playing.