It's the core group that delivers the most astonishing displays of hardcore fury and progressive musical exploration on Axe to Fall

While To the Bone sometimes seems inconsistent, it's an illusion; repeated listening reveals that Wilson's brand of progressive pop is so multivalently textured and expertly crafted, that its aesthetic and sonic palette refuse to be contained under a single rock umbrella. As such, To the Bone stands with Wilson's best work.

This soundtrack stands tall in the man's wide-reaching discography, offering fans a Wu-flavored vision of a world where both the damned and cursed still swagger.

It’s good to see Tyler having some real fun with it, but for a 28-minute project that should be all killer no filler, DON'T TAP THE GLASS warrants more bite.

While the album's ambitions occasionally get the better of the actual music, For the Season's intermittent brilliance is worth digging and waiting for.

It is attractive not only for its unusual, sophisticated musical presentation and smart, poetic lyricism, but for its canny instinct as well.

Only "Better When I'm by Your Side," which hews a little too closely to the Lorde template, does anything to darken the mood. It's a tiny stumble that does little to detract from the pleasing nature of the rest of the album.

The Baby's combination of breezy melodies and vulnerability makes for an engaging listen well worthy of the promising designation.

Berninger's incisive turns of phrase and refusal to isolate the bitter and sweet are the governing forces throughout the record, even on songs like the jaunty "Junk," a defeated love song that imagines flowers sprouting through his own grave in Indiana.

There's a sharpness that was absent before, a shift in focus and time that's strict in design.

All told, this album is probably the band's best balance of pop melodies and avant-leaning structures since Washing Machine; even if it doesn't rank among their most ambitious work, Sonic Nurse sounds like the kind of album Sonic Youth should be making at this point in their career.

[The Presidents] still make catchy, punky pop tunes, but dammit if they don't sound better than they ever did. Maybe it's because the album stands in direct contrast with the teen pop and rap-rock that dominate the mainstream rock audience, or maybe it's because their jokes are now clever and silly, the production is varied, the songs are breezy, melodic, and catchy. Or maybe it's just because in this stripped-back production, the band never sounds self-conscious.

With its subtle textural enhancement, the album renders the esoteric pleasures of Todd's compositions and highly individual songs considerably more accessible.

Bright Eyes has mixed badness with beauty for a sonic storybook that relates to everyone.

Tambourine is a remarkably mature, confident, and commanding release that defines then rides its groove with no low points.

The rest of the album follows suit with an energy that mixes in just the right amount of mirth, mayhem, and maudlin, making Signed and Sealed in Blood an album that's sure to please Murphys fans both old and new.

Harlem River is a journey worth taking and an excellent debut from an emerging singer/songwriter.

Sioux Falls' battles between disenchantment, sadness, joy, and rage are easily strong enough to support an album half this size, but at 16 tracks--with six of them over six minutes long--it's just too hard to stay invested.

Engaging and enlightening, Noble and Godlike in Ruin is political art of the highest order -- and more proof that Deerhoof will always find something deeply felt to communicate about the state of the world.

While this may not make it the most immediately exciting album of Explosions in the Sky's career, it easily stands to be one of their most rewarding.

It finds the perfect balance between the vibrancy of her poppier work in the '90s and her experiments in the 2000s.

Sleigh Bells may have topped themselves here, but it's a case of more being less.

This retro vibe is appealing and it also helps undercut whatever lingering sense of fatality hangs over the album, since it suggests that Ride Me Back Home isn't a statement, but rather just another enjoyable record in a long line of enjoyable records.

It's proof that, once again, Deerhoof can craft something fresh and different after so many albums. In their world, evil and boredom are practically the same thing, and Deerhoof vs. Evil triumphs against both.

While Swearing at Motorists are clearly at ease in a variety of musical styles, it's tempting to yearn for fatter hooks, more fleshed-out arrangements, or just a cathartic chorus to sing along with at the top of your lungs -- which was what made the Replacements' similar tribulations ultimately so inviting.

It is the most organic record he's issued in almost two decades; and, more importantly, it restores topical protest music to a bona fide place in American cultural life.

By no standards is the album a cleanly polished turn toward high-brow composition, but the sounds are more inspired and the hybrid of improvisation and clear-headed direction is one of their most cohesive-sounding, not losing any amount of excitement or fire with the added structure.

Celebration Castle confirms what anyone who heard Laced With Romance suspected -- that the Ponys are growing into one of the best and most powerfully pleasurable rock bands of their generation.

This compressed feel, the precision of the band's playing and arrangements, and the way every song comes to an abrupt stop sometimes make the album sound too closed-off.

A comparable but slightly superior outing to E-40’s nightlife-oriented Revenue Retrievin’: Night Shift, which was released on the same date, Revenue Retrievin’: Day Shift finds the Bay veteran sticking more closely to his comfort zone and making songs about what he knows: the streets.

Once fans shift into the proper gear, [Go] really shows that these guys are capable of something more expansive than anything they've done before.

The combination of crypto-goth moodiness--nods to Bauhaus but especially to Will Sergeant's work with Echo & the Bunnymen are omnipresent--and an older kind of drama, reaching back to Phil Spector's productions and Roy Orbison's mini-operas, recombines throughout on a remarkable series of songs.

There's also plenty of dubstep and neo-soul (note the very fine vocal cameo from Greg Blackman on "I'm Feeling U"), and unfortunately, there are also some de rigueur sketches and waste-of-time spoken word interludes, but not too many of them.

Coves' flair for drama sometimes outpaces their ability to write memorable songs, but Soft Friday's best moments are so good, and its overall sound is so vibrant, that it's a more than promising debut.

Jamaica have enough of their own quirky likableness and vocal style to always register as a completely unique entity, albeit one that wouldn't sound out of place on late-'70s and early-'80s AM radio.

Gamel is a frenzied and ecstatic experience, and one that ends up being brilliant in its bizarre combinations of sounds and ideas.

Counterfeit Blues is a rough-hewn, hardcore country revelation.

Twenty-six albums in, Loudon Wainwright's signature is etched even more deeply into the American songsmith grain on Haven't Got the Blues (Yet).

Blurred is unique, although akin to the old 808 State and LFO efforts where blue rooms met bass music and all the hoodies understood, but it's that same meeting happening in 2014, after house and bass followed their own indie and dubstep routes.

Throughout the album, Vessels' different approaches flow so naturally that they feel effortless, arriving at an impressive blend of passion and precision.

Through it all, Bronson balances brutish punch lines with a stunning wit, and tempers his lust for world travel and opulence with self-deprecating jokes, and yet, Mr. Wonderful is still just a tad too big and busy for the newcomer.

While Meridian continues on logically from Dream Sleep, and even Barn Owl's V, it is at another level, one more inherently focused and more overtly compositional. This is Caminiti's most holistic project to date.

At just under 30 minutes, it feels like a bit of a lark, but its brevity actually works in its favor, as an extended set of Haines' sneering incantations and electronic skullduggery would likely require a certain amount of intestinal fortitude.

A set of songs that build on the dreamy pop of the Medusa EP with a smoother, bigger sound.

At its best, Neo transcends redundancy with raw power, but it remains to be seen whether or not the band can find their own voice amid the maelstrom.

This isn't a collection of overlooked compositions, it's a bit of pop archeology, excavating records that feel right. Every one of these 19 cuts certainly does feel right, sounding sun-burned and blissed-out, embodying the hangover of the hippie dream.

Black balances his pop leanings and prog inclinations well throughout the record, never tipping too far in one direction or the other, and always making music that is pleasing to both the part of the brain that wants to think and the part that wants to feel.

With Deportation Blues, Brian Christinzio has created his own Big Star 3rd, less druggy but just as much a musical voyage through one man's psyche that travels through darkness while searching for some gleam of healing light. Let's hope he finds it before he makes his next album.

Not every cut bristles with this sense of adventure -- there are still plenty of stark, plaintive ballads that provide the record with a sensitive, quivering foundation -- but by balancing their familiar backwoods brooding with fearless rock & roll, they've wound up with an album with a wild, twitching heart.

The Black Dahlia Murder's superlative musicianship balances technicality, harmony, brutality, and mature sophistication on Verminous. While their style evolves somewhat here, it's a progression so smooth and in character, it's almost guaranteed to excite fans.

Throughout what is also an evocative set, Emmy the Great conjures images of musician-studded street corners and windblown flower petals alongside characters like "Mary," the unreliable fortune teller.

Despite its generous track list, Hits to the Head never drags -- like Franz Ferdinand's music as a whole, it's very listenable and a lot of fun.

Bon Voyage was a kind of disjointed, disconnected masterpiece, Emotional Eternal is the flipside of the coin. Unified by acceptance and warmth, sung with wide-eyed, deep-down happiness, and played with a rich softness, it's a thing of beauty and that's forever.

The lively setting and empathetic harmonies help turn Bluegrass into an enjoyable detour: nobody is stretching themselves, they're merely laying back and having a good time, and that's hard not to enjoy.

Most bands don't sound as fresh, confident, and willing to take chances three decades into their career as the Old 97's do on American Primitive; they've quietly but firmly matured into one of America's best roots rock acts.

The band deserve all kinds of praise for pulling off the somewhat rare feat of being both musically adventurous and emotionally gripping on Only You Left; it feels like the destination to which all their previous excursions were leading and is a fine example of indie rock at its all-around best.

With New German Cinema, Weiss expresses her angst and existential dread in terms more vivid than she did even with the brooding pop of Fear of Men, crafting a debut that bears all the heavy, understated power of the Fassbinder films and personal experiences that inspired it.

You'd have to go back to the 1970s to find a Ringo Starr solo album that was as well-crafted with his particular skills in mind as Look Up, and Long Long Road shows Burnett and Starr continue to work together beautifully.

Though combining contrasting elements in her music is usually one of her greatest strengths, hearing Arca concentrate on kick iiii's hyperreal sensuality and vulnerability makes it a crucial part of the Kick anthology.

Those who power through this album, though, will be richly rewarded by ASDIG's diaphanous, highly intelligent take on noise pop.

Marble Son is still dominated by elegant, wistful songs that sound like they were conceived on a mountaintop and set adrift to float in a cloudless sky, dipping down just long enough for listeners to get an earful of the airy delights they offer.

2011 is a year for strong albums in general, and You Are All I See deserves to be ranked among the best.

On The Voyager, Lewis' characters live for today without ever thinking that the world might pass them by, and having her music flow so smooth and easy, she illustrates how easy it is to get sucked into that alluring stasis.

With its ghostly music box pianos, electronic watercolors, staccato strings, and elliptical melodies, the album feels simultaneously elusive and introspective.

Balloonerism isn’t Miller’s best, most consistent, or even most experimental work, but it offers a previously unseen chapter in his evolution as an artist and shows clear pathways to what followed.

Repave is anything but showy. It's a pretty type of album that washes over you, made up of slow burners that melt like hot wax.

[The songs] manage to be unified in a way that Young wanted Greendale to be but didn't quite pull off, yet they also stand on their own and are, overall, more memorable than those on Prairie Wind.

Given all the things Byrne and Clark pack into Love This Giant, it's a remarkably catchy and concise set of songs featuring some of the most vibrant work that either one of them has produced.

Carrier ends up being a remarkably balanced meditation on joy and loss, as well as one of the more nuanced albums in Dodos' body of work.

Those who enjoyed the wooziness of Talabot's 2012 studio album ƒIN should find much to enjoy here.

A song like "Maelstrom" lets loose with a thundering bass drum and more-distant syncopated snare. For the most part, though, tracks levitate above ground along webs of acoustic guitar, piano, layered vocals, and atmospheric shimmer to the point where it's sometimes difficult to distinguish one song from another.

Dave (of De La Soul) co-wrote "Mirror," as well as one of the other darker highlights, "Killing Me," a slowly swaying kiss-off in which Nagano seethes, "I'll take my rocket ship and get the hell outta this/Nothin' that I'm gon' miss." That song, along with the satisfying closer "Let Go," was co-produced by Robin Hannibal (Quadron, Rhye). Subtract those contributions and this would still be the group's most accomplished work.

An equally strange and sexy debut, Zaba's most audacious moments suggest Glass Animals will be an even more compelling act next time around.

Dedicated fans will want to note that two of the tracks--"Swimming Pool" and "Social Halo"--were taken from her 2015 EP S, though the ten additional tracks more than make up for any duplication.

The Art of Pretending to Swim is a strong example of how one man with an unlimited number of tracks to fill can create a compelling and revealing collection of songs. If this doesn't always sound like what one would expect from Villagers, its emotional impact shows that it's clearly O'Brien's work.

No Gods No Masters is a highlight in their discography and one of their best works to date, a potent and outspoken dose of genre-blending artistry that confidently returns Garbage to their position as a band perpetually ahead of the curve.

While HAIM, Amber Mark, Syd (of the Internet), Robin Pecknold (of Fleet Foxes) and Empress Of all contribute their talents to these songs, this is very much David Longstreth's music, and it's heartfelt, passionate, and beguiling in the tradition of Dirty Projectors' best work.

It is a serious contender for any representative year-end list.

Sonically, Manhattan is one of Lewis' clearest, best-recorded and arranged albums to date, with masses of swirling, atmospheric sounds augmenting the more detailed tracks (the sounds of crowded New York City streets and subways seep into some of the songs).

The rest of the surprisingly accessible Smash the System follows suit, weaving in some solid singer/songwriter-y bits ("Bomber Jacket"), some Sleaford Mods-style post-punk ("Power of the Witch"), and even a dollop of neo-pagan Wicker Man-worship ("Cosmic Man"), all with a wink and a nod, of course.

Lighthouse is lovely, but the lack of attention to detail blunts some of the writing and playing craft on offer.

Monument Builders is a powerful reminder that ambient music is a fine conduit for emotionally and politically charged messages, and it's one of Morgan's finest works yet.

Piano Song is an excellent and accessible introduction that surrenders nothing in terms of creativity. For fans, this authoritative statement is a revelatory chapter from one of the most fascinating musicians since 1980s.

Overall, the beats here are funkier and a little more jagged than they are on the preceding volume, highlighted by the whomping bassline on "Moon Whip Quäz," Thundercat's bob-and-prickle low end on "Since C.A.Y.A.," and what resembles a contorted hybrid of Prince's "Delirious" and Urban Tribe's "At Peace with Concrete" on "That's How City Life Goes."

The set's detailed liner notes are fascinating and well written, and the music is as lovely and evocative as one would expect from Eno's ambient works.

Look Up Sharp is more forthright than dal Forno's previous work, but it still retains a deep, intriguing sense of mystery.

An impressive project that brings illuminating new perspectives to their music -- and perhaps some more artists to their listeners' attention.

Dreamstate feels like Owens' attempt at reaching the sort of mainstream success that someone like Peggy Gou has achieved, and while it does contain some worthwhile material, overall it just doesn't add up.

Other bands thinking about re-forming would do well to follow their lead and not just get back together to play the hits and count the cash, but instead create something vital and relevant; something that makes the group's continued existence worthwhile.

It's a refreshing change from the usual compilation of bibliophile, sea shanty/murder ballad, and while the Led Zeppelin III-style rural overhauling may isolate fans who prefer the serpentine, progressive art rock of albums like The Crane Wife and Hazards of Love, it opens up a whole new continent for the band to explore.

While the songs on Basic Volume explore similar sounds and themes as his previous work, they're sharper and more focused.

It's a brave, compelling collection from an artist who continues to evolve in remarkable and unexpected ways.

The fact that they waited eight years to make this impressive album demonstrates the patience and maturity of a band whose members wanted to wait until they had something worthy to say.

The production by Joe Henry is superb, matching Baez's vocals with subtle but simpatico accompaniment from a studio band that knows how to shine while making room for the protagonist. Whistle Down the Wind is a portrait of an artist who, at the age of 77, has not given up on her muse or her ideals, and while it's subtle, it's also a deeply moving piece of work that demands attention.

This is an album full of vivid imagination, and executed with the skills to make those ideas stick.

For a string band album titled Autumn, they deliver exactly what you'd want: a nuanced selection of warm, earthy music replete with gentle guitar picking, woody mandolin, muted banjo, occasional piano, and a robust vocal blend to evoke the wistful changing of the season.

Armed with his newfound sense of self-acceptance and determination, Garratt finds his voice on Love, Death & Dancing, embracing the darkness while shining some light into the shadows.

Substantial enough to require three pieces of vinyl (the CD version is a single disc with three fewer tracks), it's more outward-looking than Toeachizown, not only through its dizzying and multigenerational list of collaborators, but also through Riddick's increased ability and confidence as a vocalist who promotes positivity, whether it's blissful escape or strong-willed perseverance.