Just like Kendrick's stunning Good Kid, M.A.A.D City, Under Pressure is an autobiographical and odds-beating debut that arrives more fully formed than expected. Maybe all those mixtapes were all called Young Sinatra because the best was yet to come.

Even on these songs, it feels more like Deerhoof are coming full circle than looking back; that they've been able to put different but cohesive spins on their sound so well, and for so long, is truly remarkable.

Once again, they have succeeded and prove that they aren't just an oldies act; they are at the forefront of the modern shoegaze/noise pop scene.

The smaller Guggenheim portion, served up in smaller doses, decreases the tension only slightly on Clark's most exhilarating work yet.

The way Arca plays with and decorates time, letting sounds and moods mutate spontaneously, makes Xen a complete picture of his artistry and also promises much more.

Mysterious and riveting, Rhythm is one of the most stunning distillations of Wildbirds & Peacedrums' powers yet.

The band sounds vital and energetic, and while there's still a hint of sour grapes to be heard, all in all the album feels like a return to the basics.

My Favourite Faded Fantasy may come on as a bit underwhelming at first but that's the intent: it's not designed to grab, it's designed to soothe and then slowly worm its way into the subconscious, which is where these eight songs reveal themselves to be as strong as anything else Rice has written.

Ultimately, what is so great about this release is how well Mariachi El Bronx balance their love of traditional mariachi music with their desire to write utterly catchy, contemporary pop songs.

Nude Beach were already a better-than-average garage punk combo on their first two long-players, but they're growing into something more on 77, and it's smart, well-crafted stuff that could possibly move them to bigger and/or better things.

With Hold My Home, they emerge as a more straightforward band, and also a more confident and engaging one.

Human Voice represents an artist's drive to push his work forward, but also retains the signature relationship with melody and emotional presentation that have always set Dntel apart from the rest.

It's a strong finale in the duo's signature style and whether or not this truly is the end or merely the end of their album era, The Inevitable End sits among the best in Röyksopp's catalog.

The serious vibe and timely message of Hang make it an album that fans of the band (and punk in general) won't want to pass up.

What Hookworms might lack in image and clarity, they more than make up for by making music that isn't built to linger in the background. It demands attention and deserves it, too.

It is certainly their most well-rounded and diverse, one that adds some pop-machine savvy without losing any of the insouciant charm they've had to spare in the past.

Powerful stuff itself, Stalley's excellent debut proves Funkadelic's hypothesis of "Free your mind and your ass will follow" while taking Dr. Dre's advice of "Keep their heads ringin'" to another level.

Cadillactica is an album where an artist launches a superior second act while losing none of the essential elements that made the first so powerful.

Not only does Wyatt sound even more comfortable with the album format, his uncanny valley of past and present, feeling and observing, is blurrier--and more impressive--than ever.

In short, without seeing Atlas's film, Turning is simply a live recording of Antony and the Johnsons on-stage in London, but thankfully, given their talent and their commitment to their craft, that's more than enough to make this a remarkable experience.

Simple Minds have finally come to terms with all the fragments of their musical identity, focused them in a complementary manner, and delivered a whole with an unapologetic pop savvy and flair. It is easily their most consistent offering since Once Upon a Time.

In its own way, this album might be Lee and Björklund's most balanced and unified work yet; it's certainly a confident journey into uncharted waters for the duo.

They're an absolute must for anyone enamored with the kiwi pop sound and serve to show a different, less produced and more immediate side of the band's wistful, rolling songwriting style and dynamic, moody playing.

In a catalog that contains over 20 studio albums, Allergic to Water is exemplary for its craft.

At its best, Seeds is a fine tribute to Smith and the sound of enduring unimaginable loss.

The group really did a fine job of crafting something low-key and gloomy here.

This is a modern classical work that, while haunting and beautiful, bears the enduring weight of witness to the madness of a war that was to end all wars yet, as catastrophic and senseless as this shared massacre was, the long shadow of its historical implications remain.

Naturally, what is first alluring about Avonmore is its feel--it's meant to be seductive--but the songs are what makes this record something more than a fling.

The upbeat "Motors Runnin" is a standout, addressing the endless and unpredictable ride of being alive while summing up the restless wonder, excitement, and confusion that lie at the core of the album and find a different voicing from song to song.

Despite a radical switch from digital to analog gear, the album is as bleak and as bracing as Luxury Problems.

The main successes of Final Days come with its more complex arrangements as well as more nuanced and exacting performances.

Still in the salad days, these songs are the sound of the band hitting the ground running. They hold up to any of Fugazi's more realized recordings, sounding fresh and--more importantly--urgent even 26 years later.

Casual listeners may find this to merely be a pleasant and inviting ambient work, but a lot of love went into these nine pieces and repeated spins will reveal great depth and many layers to get lost in.

Dear Youth does an awfully nice job of explaining why the Ghost Inside elicit such devotion. There's no posturing here, just peers trying to work things out the only way they know how: through unmitigated volume.

Sea Island feels like an evolution of the sounds and ideas he explored on his previous full-length, 2012's excellent Sketches from New Brighton, and the short-form releases that followed it, the piano-driven Intervalo and his split EP with the British ambient group Fieldhead.

This is most easily recommended to casual fans and folks looking for an introduction to the group's music.

While No One Was Looking confirms plenty of folks heard fascinating things in the music Bloodshot has brought to the marketplace, it's a great listen that's full of fine surprises and passionate music.

Every song has a brilliantly shiny chorus, chord changes that inspire deep nostalgic feels, and a snappy, tough-minded lyrical outlook that fit the era and still sounds right in 2014.

It can be heard both as a portrait of Allen's career as Afrobeat's bannerman rhythmnatist or--perhaps more accurately--the soundtrack to his own musical innovation and evolution through it. Either way it's a stone killer.

By the time Wheeler reaches a place of acceptance, the listener has as well, and while both parties may be a bit ragged, they're both better for the experience.

Darkness has been a frequent companion on She Keeps Bees' earlier releases, but most of Eight Houses seems to take it a step further, verging between sad and threatening, yet ultimately powerful.

The wonderfully weird "Vegas" from Bad Meets Evil (Eminem and Royce Da 5'9) makes one wish the Shady label boss would find more time for the project, but he's already quite stretched behind the scenes, producing or co-producing eight of the cuts on disc one, including Skylar Grey's "Twisted," which isn't hip-hop, but glittery and goth giganto-pop. Great, grand, risky, and clever moments like this make Shady XV the worthy celebratory object that it is, but don't expect a deep roster or a cohesive game plan, because the label has always been more about close friends and family.

The London Sessions just happens to have her best round of songs, productions, and performances since The Breakthrough.

The alternates of songs that were on the albums are interesting but not revelatory, but hearing these early versions of songs that appeared on later albums is pretty fascinating.

It may be no different than what came before, but Rock or Bust is by many measures stronger than most latter-day AC/DC albums, serving as a testament to why their good-humored raunch and industrial-strength riffs made them a rock & roll institution.

Don't call it a comeback, call it a collective, or a compilation from solo artists who sound enthused to be back with an especially inspired RZA as ringleader.

Like the best of any collections of covers, Other People's Songs offers a completely unexpected perspective and at the same time makes us want to revisit the original versions and investigate the differences.

Dark, beautiful, and deft, Natural Selection should only be played at night, but it should be played on most nights, and maybe on some rainy, especially hazy afternoons.

At its best, Chubbed Up plays like a withering exit interview from pop culture; taken with Austerity Dogs and Divide and Exit, it shows Sleaford Mods' music is becoming more vital with each release.

Classics is meant to be pure entertainment and even though most of these songs have been sung before by a variety of other artists, in the hands of She & Him, it comes off less like a novelty and instead sits very comfortably in their growing catalog of fine releases.

The breadth impresses and it resonates stronger because he's funneled all these sounds and textures into a tight nine-song album that lasts barely over a half-hour. For an artist who has fervently believed more is indeed more, this restraint is thoroughly appealing and helps showcase his craft in surprising--and, yes, sometimes dazzling--ways.

It's tough stuff but it's also enthusiastic, infectious fun, a record of three-minute songs that blazes by in just over a half-hour.

Inspiration flows out of the man throughout the album, and this end-to-end concept is executed with little note-spinning or boring lyrics that just serve the story, and while Twelve Reasons took a big giallo risk and nailed it, this more expected, '70s-favored success still surprises with its vigorous sense of purpose.

By the end of the album, the pastiche of various unlikely influences sounds more like Twig's own weird voice than a calculated amalgam, and the struggle between darkness and beauty in these songs becomes more of a focus than the many obscure musical reference points they contain.

Ultimately, the EP lives up to its name, offering reflections on A U R O R A that enhance that work and are compelling in their own right.

It succeeds as an introduction to Charli XCX the Pop Star while retaining her whip-smart songwriting and attitude.

Fryars has made an album that is cinematic, endlessly listenable and out of this world good.

Fans of either band--and experimental music in general--who appreciate Savages and Bo Ningen's restless spirits will likely enjoy Words to the Blind for what it is: equal parts duet and battle, and a hell of a ride.

Live in Dublin reveals Leonard Cohen is actually growing and improving as a performer as his 80th birthday looms on the horizon, and this unexpected and welcome new chapter in his career continues to reap surprising and delightful rewards.

There's evidence that she has studied the classics, like the point in "Broken Hearted Girl" where she quotes Teena Marie, and the quietly dazzling, Janet Jackson-like way in which she conveys longing throughout "Request." At the same time, she leaves a mark of her own with this, one of 2014's superb debuts.

Sylvie Simmons is smart enough to know the best thing music can do is touch the heart, and that's just what Sylvie does--whatever her résumé may say, one listen to these songs proves Simmons has the smarts and the instincts of a true musician, and her debut is a true gem.

Standards finds Cole at a place of razor-sharp renewal. He uses the past unapologetically yet vitally, and delivers a record fans will find both irresistibly familiar and firmly of this moment in his career.

Here, it's possible to hear the band gel--Alex Chilton and Jody Stephens found a balance with Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, something that's obvious by the group's subsequent history, but on this spirited show you can hear the gears fall into place and that's worth the price of admission, perhaps more than once.

Berkeley to Bakersfield is one of Cracker's most ambitious and satisfying sets in quite some time, as good as anything they've given us since Kerosene Hat in 1993.

At its best Tētēma is just as intelligent and compelling as Patton's collaborations with John Zorn; hopefully Patton and Pateras will have more dangerous visions for us all in the future (if there is one).

Sounding both effortless and intricately composed at once, PRhyme is an instant classic, and one that sounds better and better as repeated listenings reveal more of the details hiding behind the album's deceptively straightforward approach.

This set is a major go; it extends the qualitative trajectory of The Blackening and Unto the Locust.

These complicated combinations of sounds and feelings suggest that Reznor and Ross are nearly as skilled at emotional manipulation as the film's characters, and Gone Girl's ambiguity and dread make it their most haunting work yet.

Homeboy Sandman's biggest attractor is still his pride, a quality that's even more up-front as his career matures. Hallways beams with it, making it one of those rare rap records where true talk meets the warm fuzzies, or the warm motherfuzzies, as it were.

Luke Winslow-King may sound like a gentleman on Everlasting Arms, but one listen to this album will convince you that when it comes to music, nice guys really can finish first.

With There's a Blue Bird in My Heart, Parker circles to embrace his electric guitar and crafty songwriting again with excellent results.

The issues raised on Bitter Tears are still relevant, and Look Again to the Wind reminds us that art can still speak eloquently about the best and worst parts of the human condition, and it's well worth investigating.

The coming-of-age and kinetic SremmLife reminds listeners that jumping into "poppa's chair" was a thrilling mix of pride and new opportunities, plus, the album doubles as a guaranteed party soundtrack.

This is the sound of a band that's growing fearless in middle age, and while the record occasionally does drag--all those long songs push it over an hour, but the sequencing makes it feel even longer--there's also a thrill hearing a band unafraid to stumble.

This is very clearly the Decemberists, but with a new kind of focus in their songs and arrangements that makes it clear this album's sound is a result of creative evolution, not an offering to their newer, larger audience, and it's a sweet and sour wonder that rewards repeated listening.

By maintaining a more or less accessible alt-pop center, Mangan and company have given themselves free reign to fill in the edges with whatever they see fit, which they do with gusto throughout Club Meds' perfectly acceptable 45-minute runtime, which is something that only happens when a band, not an individual, is firing on all cylinders.

Like Earle's best work, Absent Fathers is low on flash and high on emotional honesty and perceptive songwriting, and paired with Single Mothers this is some of his most intelligent and moving music to date.

Even if Alkan's association may suggest something more banging, this debut is perfect for overcast afternoon sessions or anytime the head is melancholy while the feet crave movement.

How to Die in the North is an undeniably tasty dish, served hot or cold.

Matador may initially seduce with its slow, enveloping assurance but the reason it lasts are those songs, as exquisitely crafted and enduring as anything in Coombes' rich catalog.

All in all, Slurrup is a smile-inducing reminder that it's too easy to pigeonhole him as just a master craftsman--and that Hayes' pop is arguably even more potent when it's not quite as elaborate.

They do what they do quite well and this cohesive debut should win them plenty of fans.

Easily the most joyful and extroverted of Lipstate's albums at this point, it also feels the most vibrant and engaging, gracefully exposing a world of endless blissful layers for the audience to stargaze upon.

Viet Cong were a group full of promise on their debut EP, Cassette, and with their harder, heavier, and more powerful debut album, they're making it clear they have the talent and smarts to become a major force in Canada's indie community.

Soul Power is music that honors the rich traditions of classic R&B while keeping its head and heart in the here and now; some folks say you can't have it both ways, but Curtis Harding is here to show that's a lie.

Taking their sound in a new, unforeseen bluesy direction accomplishes the near impossible by making Marilyn Manson sound even more sinister than before.

Irreal's minimalism is an uncompromising and often riveting testament to Disappears' integrity, which seems to be the only constant in their music.

In its own way, Inherent Vice is as subtly and carefully crafted as Greenwood's other scores for Anderson's films, but its wit and heart make it special in its own right.

Like most of the delightfully bleak Nervous, it's both dense and impossibly airy, like a storm cloud about to blow.

His 2006 debut may still be the one to pick, since it's leaner and more instant, but Tetsuo & Youth strolls its way into greatness after a couple listens and wipes out all the bitter aftertaste of Lasers as if that misstep never happened.

There are a lot of bands working this angle in the early 2010s; Pinkshinyultrablast is one of the best, and their debut album shows exactly why.

G Stands for Go-Betweens is a labor of love, carefully put together by Forster with obvious affection, and essential for any fan of the band, especially those who treasure their tumultuous formative years over their more full-formed, yet still quite tumultuous, later period.

Her eye for telling romantic details and gift for gorgeous, lilting melodies mean this debut sinks its hooks in deep and soon seems to belong alongside the classics it so plainly resembles.

Altogether, the material is mature, technically proficient as ever, lively, and sounds rough and real; it’s hard to imagine Individ won’t be a hit with fans, intermittent or long-standing.

Ultimately, Young Ejecta play with intimacy and distance, loss and rebirth in such compelling ways on The Planet that it feels more like an introduction than a continuation.

Though the album loses a little focus after its near-flawless first half, Shake Shook Shaken is the Dø's finest work yet and a pointed and poignant document of change and its aftermath.

Still buried neck deep in love for Flying Nun, still snappy and poppy, but just a little bit weirder, a little more powerful musically and emotionally, and a little more satisfying for the incremental change.

As a companion album or on its own two legs, Fears Trending was worth another trip to well.