With Infinite House, Ava Luna don't narrow their ambitious scope of sound, but manage to rein in the rapid-fire impulses that made earlier albums harder to swallow.

In its own way, the Wild Beasts' volatile flamboyance is more difficult to embrace than an overtly dissonant experimental band's music, but that's just another way that this group sets itself apart from the rest of the pack--and there's something very liberating about that, even if it's baffling at times.

Potent stuff, any way you slice it.

Civil Disobedience for Losers is easily one of the best pieces of Melvins-worship to come out in a while.

While overall, I Am Kloot's sixth album reads like a heartfelt and stylized ten-chapter celebration of classic pop--with the opening half consolidating Bramwell's position as one of England's most unjustifiably overlooked songwriters--it's only a minor disappointment that four of the final five chapters included here sail dangerously close to pastiche.

Semi-decent, rainy Sunday morning records are a dime a dozen, but when they connect, it's like a Bloody Mary-bruised brunch with your best friends, and Lily & Madeleine Jurkiewicz have crafted a moody gem, and one of the most achingly comforting albums of 2013.

At 74, he is in assured command of his voice, and better understands the deeper well it resonates from.

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.

On this album, Della Mae expand their roots-and-groove quotient, and extend the margins in their writing without sacrificing either the virtuosity and sparkle in their performance or the root persona in their sound.

7 (Or 8) is the messy but precise sound of true believers in search of the Crunch that Transcends All, and there are moments where they come impressively close to actually finding it.

Armed with sounds of vintage gear recorded at a hospitable Austin, Texas instrument shop, Anand created Para in a number of locations, yet the album sounds like it was made in deep, zoned-out concentration. Its track sequencing is fluid as well, even when the array of approaches verges on excessive.

Altogether an effective cross between the less gloomy range of '70s singer/songwriters and acerbic British tunesmiths like Paul Heaton and Robyn Hitchcock, the Cambridge, England native's style feels at once sentimental and pointed, a combination that charms.

Jomsviking effectively distills all of the band's predilections into one big, dragon-headed longship of an album, sails aflame and headed straight into the mouth of Valhalla.

Strange Diary is an instantly appealing debut album that distills several years' worth of ups and downs into a set of sharp, affectionate tunes.

It delivers an excellent portrait of Wobble as disciple, master, and prophet of dub.

The Old 97's still sound engaged, energetic, and as committed as ever 23 years after they released their debut, and Graveyard Whistling is evidence they're not short on fresh ideas either.

Song of the Rose won't do much for your next dance party, but if you're looking for music that's intelligent and introspective but still revels in the beauty of the world around us, then Arbouretum have made an album you need to hear.

While there's not any major conceptual through-line here, one of the most impressive aspects of Five is the album's balanced flow, which evokes the A- and B-side aesthetic of the vinyl age.

Throughout, the slippery beats, rangy songwriting, crisp, breezy production, and the streetwise pleasure-seeking confessionals and sideways jokes, make for a feel-good (even in its darker moments) summertime urbano album to be pumped loudly from car stereos, at parties, or on the beach.

Singing for My Supper is unapologetically rooted in the past, but James is just idiosyncratic and genuinely talented enough to avoid pastiche, as he effortlessly amalgamates Southern blues, country, folk, pop, and jazz into something that evokes Jason Isbell by way of Lee Hazlewood or Tim Buckley.

Canada's Born Ruffians continue to hone their exuberant sound on their sixth album, 2020's punchy and inspired Juice. Produced by Graham Walsh, who has previously worked on similarly inventive efforts by Alvvays, !!!, and Holy Fuck, Juice is a live-sounding album, full of hooky shouted choruses, and tactile, analog instrumentation.

The production is at the same level of detail and quality that Burna Boy has maintained for most of his releases, but the songs flow in a cohesive, sometimes narrative fashion that offers a more direct emotional impact than some of his earlier work.

Lightning Show Us Your Stuff doesn't feel like one of the truly great albums in Grant-Lee Phillips's catalog, but it's certainly a very good one, and any artist who can reliably turn out music this smart, impassioned, and well-crafted is someone who more than deserves a larger audience.

The death-centered storytelling of both the lyrics and podcast excerpts works well with Tunng's ever-ambitious blend of mystical folk and futuristic pop, and ultimately Dead Club's perspectives on the great beyond come off as curious and playful where they could have skewed far more fatalistic.

Ultimately landing like a skill set in progress more than an artist fully formed, Super Monster is nevertheless sweet and full of winsome promise.

With The Blue Elephant he has made something bordering on greatness, where his skills at creating sound are allowed to fully flower, his songs have grown deeper roots, and the pairing with Blundell borders on brilliant.

The album puts too much emphasis on its cool side rather than the warmth that truly elevates the music, but there is more than enough beauty and empathy here to make this well worth your time and attention.

It's a lot of ground to cover in a swift 36 minutes but the nice thing about Lindsey Buckingham is that it feels as vibrant as it is controlled. It's the work of an expert craftsman who relies on his skills as composer, arranger, producer, vocalist, and guitarist to sculpt songs that comfort without succumbing to nostalgia.

Their best since 2014's This Is All Yours, The Dream finds Alt-J in top form. Despite being so lyrically death-obsessed, the beauty and warmth coursing through the album make it full of life and absolutely human.

A like-minded, generally uplifting, uptempo set (this time comprising a still generous 12 songs).

A more playful, song-oriented set, if one where the lighter tone proves to be more than a little ironic.

Rhythmically a balanced mix of energetic grooves and melancholy explorations, the album is wall-to-wall artful expression that finds a songwriter thriving as part of a four-piece.

Who feels like a Who album: The two still bring out the best in each other.

Traveling Alone feels more spontaneous and immediate than most of Tift Merritt's previous work, but it's no less beautiful or affecting for it.

Micky looks at the past not with sad reverence but with a smile, happy that he was there and happy to be able to sing about it still, and that's the vibe of Good Times!: it was a blast to live it then and it's a blast to relive those times too.

Lacking rhythmic hypnotism and relatable most to those who are experiencing solitude created by romantic desertion, this is not your mother's Sade album.

An album that continues very much in the melancholy vein of its predecessor while taking a generally looser approach to arrangements.

You don't have to care about wrestling to be knocked out by Beat the Champ, but Darnielle makes it clear that these stories mean something real to him, and this is a fascinating portrait not of who wins or loses, but those who play the game.

While Rausch initially doesn't feel like quite as much of a momentous occasion as Narkopop did when it first arrived, it certainly isn't any less beautiful, and holds up to repeated listens as well as anything else in the project's essential discography.

While the tracks are longer and more realized, they're still distinctly remixes instantly recognizable as DFA output -- a mark of individual distinction many remixers strive to attain but few reach.

It's a melancholy but never depressing 50 minutes that proves what an under-the-radar talent Jeffreys remains, and indicates that his best work might even be ahead of him.

It couldn't be more dystopian. It's also a completely exhilarating thrill ride, and highly recommended for fans of other bass-heavy sound bombers such as Amnesia Scanner and Brood Ma.

If you've fallen out of love with indie rock -- or even if your devotion never so much as flickered -- Somewhere just might be enough to remind you why you loved the sound in the first place.

At a sleek 33-minutes long, Crash lets songs like "Lightning" -- an unlikely but winning collision of freestyle beats, giddy orchestral synth stabs, and processed vocals -- claim the spotlight they deserve. It may not be quite as striking as how i'm feeling now, but on Crash, Charli XCX once again finds endless freedom in pop's constraints.

All told, it's a delight to hear that, over 20 years into Lewis and Best's partnership, they are pushing their recognizable but rarely formulaic sound into fresh territory.

It's a wonderful document of an unparalleled artist still radiating creativity, thoughtfulness, and power well into her late seventies. Like most everything else Mitchell has touched in her storied career, At Newport is inspiring, moving, and manages to also be a lot of fun.

The songwriting is more disciplined, and the arrangements and production are tighter. Together they create a seamless but welcome change in aesthetic direction.

Orc is another classic Oh Sees album that shows no signs of wear and tear anyplace in the operation.

The Complete Budokan 1978 essentially reveals Dylan sets the record straight about his music at the time, while opening a gauzy curtain on the artist at life's crossroads. This missing link is a monumental addition to Dylan's discography.

The record does sound good when it's playing, but [its] conservatism is what keeps HTDAAB earthbound and prevents it from standing alongside War, The Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby as one of the group's finest efforts.

Not so much a soundtrack to a film that was never made as it is music that demands images to accompany it, this is a welcome return after the four years of silence that followed Tender Buttons.

That's the magic and power of Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings: their ability to convey passion and pain, regret and celebration, found in the arrangements and the tail ends of notes, in the rhythms and phrasing, and it is exactly that which makes 100 Days, 100 Nights such an excellent release.

Unfortunately, the forced and false-sounding songs outnumber these bright spots by a wide margin.

This is the Dirty Three as you have never heard them before.

It comes off a little too sweet, much like running through an ice cream shop and sampling all the flavors rather than eating a proper dinner.

The results are goofy but undeniably exhilarating.

And though it is a disappointing record compared to the group's high-flying previous albums, it displays Underworld's talents well.

Get Away From Me is an exciting debut that could become a cult favorite among pissed-off girl-women of McKay's age; if she can focus her creative energy without sacrificing any of the bite of her debut, she'll become an even more impressive talent.

Fortunately they never swap their emphasis on some serious crunk-drawling for rap music's usual curb-sitting; in fact, the group expand their purview to look lovingly at lower-class life from several viewpoints.

No one makes records that sound quite like this: a shambolic, atmospheric mixture of hushed tones, deadly distortion, tender poetry and rock and roll.

Quality is proof that intelligent hip-hop need not lack excitement, soul, or genuine emotion; it's one of the best rap albums of a year with no shortage of winners.

Perhaps the most nuanced album in PJ Harvey's body of work, Uh Huh Her balances her bold and vulnerable moments, but remains vital.

Patterns of Light is another huge, heavy, and beautiful album that suggests this incarnation of His Name Is Alive is one of their finest.

Ohmme are clearly not adverse to inspired noise, but they know how to put it in a context where it doesn't grate so much as it adds zest, like a good pepper sauce, and on Parts they've made an album that's smart, sweet, and full of potent flavor.

Here he emphasizes how he's absorbed those sounds and styles, turning them into something idiosyncratic and distinctive. This unadorned setting shifts attention not just to Snider's verbal wit but to his sly phrasing: "Working on a Song" and "Talking Reality Television Blues" find him setting up punch lines only to deliver them in unexpected ways.

By letting go of a little of their rage, Cloud Nothings let more light and shadow into Life Without Sound with promising results.

Consistent in character and quality, WYWALDYAT is a rare debut, one that impacts second to second rather than by hook or groove.

RP Boo's style is a mix of experimentation and hard-fought confidence, and releases like I'll Tell You What! prove that the inventor of footwork is still several steps ahead of everyone else.

Sonic Youth's freedom to follow their bliss is what holds The Eternal together; just as paradoxically, the changes they make on this album not only bring excitement to their music, they reaffirm just how consistently good the band has been--and continues to be--over the years.

While it's hard not to wish there were a surprise or two along the way, the familiar warmth certainly has its charms, too.

Most of this stuff is just too damn weird for all but the most experimental music listener.

Like all Ron Sexsmith albums, Time Being is reliable and expertly crafted, and contains a handful of cuts that will kick around in your head until the next one swoops in to replace them.

Dedicated to Bobby Jameson is a weird, catchy, thought-provoking celebration of individuality that offers one Pink's most appealing balances of sugary accessibility and irreverent indulgence.

Even if listeners lack that namesake self-assurance that the band seem to care so much about, by the end of Confident Music for Confident People, they might believe they can achieve anything with this album as their effortlessly cool soundtrack.

Loverly is the only reason to avoid imposing a moratorium on the very tired standards genre that has become the bane of jazz in recent years. It cannot be recommended highly enough.

Rock and Roll Night Club is a confusing record, but not a mess. On the contrary, it's so deeply calculated that the intentions and possible motivations of its songs are likely to be lost on most.

Presenting raw emotion and over-the-top braggadocio with such exacting balance is part of IDK's talent, and he delivers on USEE4YOURSELF like never before.

Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against tha Wall, her first major-label release, is a more accessible refinement of her already fully formed aesthetic.

By focusing less on quotidian (i.e., boring) experiences of the proletariat and more on less-tangible allusions to death, troubled romance, and loneliness, Wagner's music is simply more approachable and meaningful, if still hard to puzzle out in its specific intent.

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.

While its seeming contradictions make it a slightly more challenging listen than Shamir was, Heterosexuality acknowledges how complicated just existing can be with the wit, creativity, and unguarded emotions that have been a vital part of Shamir's music since the beginning.

Ambitious in its reach, Remedy keeps close to the ground in in its inspiration and execution.

Seventeen years old and already turning the heads of critics, producers, and session musicians alike, Sarah Jarosz is not only a jaw-dropping talent but a multidimensional one, as well.

With The Velvet Trail, Braide, with his consummate skill and sensitive brilliance combines Almond's theatrical and lyric personas with the emotional honesty in the grain of his voice. As a result, his lyric creativity, at once direct, defiant, vulnerable, and deliberately excessive, is out of the mothballs and back out where it belongs: front and center.

If Only There Was a River rewards return listens with a deepening flow of new revelations and curiosities, as the power of the songs grows more apparent with each spin.

Not many musical acts reach their 40th anniversaries and fewer still make music worthy of their legacies, but with The World Is to Dig, They Might Be Giants remain wonderfully different.

A debut album that could pass for a greatest-hits collection, Days Are Gone will provide musical comfort food for some, and possibly an introduction to irony-free pop for others.

While Numan's work remains strictly sulky stuff destined to ruin any party, he proves he's not a robot at all on his most connectable, personal, and palpable album to date.

Its flame flickers at best, and the feeling of deja vu that pervades the album means that Los Campesinos! need to change something before they hit the studio again, or the next record will be an even more faded copy of their glorious early days.

With Paradise, White Lung have ultimately crafted an album of hooky, infectious songs that still retain all the rage and D.I.Y. punk creativity of their previous work.

The release seems like a major personal achievement and he deserves to be proud of it, but there isn't anything here that matches the best tracks on his first two albums.

Smart guy that he is, Rubin doesn't eliminate surging melodrama from Groban's bag of tricks but he does limit and mute the palette, making sure the strings don't soar so high and that the singer doesn't bellow.

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.

Sermon on the Rocks is an album where Josh Ritter allows himself to have some fun while showing that his skills as a songwriter have emerged unscathed after his divorce, and it suggests that his future is as bright as ever.

While the Frkwys series is known for its (mostly) consistent excellence, this volume is a clear standout within it.

With its environmental sound and complementary lyrics, Mowing seems to encourage daydreaming, even verbally acknowledging a return to reality when airport noise invades the closing track. Regrettably, hammock not included.

A gift for those who loved Chester, Amends is a lovingly crafted tribute, adding a bittersweet chapter to his musical legacy that brings his past and present full-circle.

His first set of songs about the real world instead of sci-fi-inspired concepts -- when everyday life is as fraught as it was in the late 2010s and early 2020s, there's no need to rely on dystopian fantasies. These differences make Pure Luxury much more immediate, and immediately relevant, than Lovett's other albums.