Much of the liveliness of Hate for Sale is due to Street capturing the Pretenders as a straight-up rock & roll band, adding a little flair to the mix but being sure there's enough color and groove so it's not monochromatic. It helps that the songs are good, too.

It's ideal music for headphones, where the clever production can reveal all of its layers.

This is a record that buzzes with ideas, it's giddy with the noise it makes, and once its initial rush fades away, it still has plenty to offer in substantive songs and sheer sonic pleasure.

Drones is a necessary acquisition for anyone interested in Muhly's work outside pop.

Arts & Leisure is so easygoing that it's easy to underestimate, but it reveals Martin as a first-rate storyteller who captures the joys of new sights and new ways of thinking in songs full of life and humor.

Lacking the thudding beats of previous TALsounds releases such as Lifter + Lighter and Love Sick, Acquiesce feels even more somnambulant, but it's still driven along by an unexplainable force.

The combination of the airiness of the arrangements and the warmth of Mann's performance is wistfully hopeful, turning Queens of the Summer Hotel into a record that soothes and consoles during moments of uncertainty.

Since the music he's drawing from is proudly excessive, it's hard to say Palomo overdoes it, but not all listeners may be fascinated by his meta-commentary on indulgent solo albums.

On Oath, Mono's seemingly disparate, trademark elements create a universe of sound and emotion to completely immerse oneself in for a moment, an hour, or a lifetime.

The format [just over 20 minutes long] proves again to be well-suited for the singer, providing another highly concentrated shot of material that shows her moving with ease -- sometimes blurring the line -- between sensual slow jams and pop-flavored dance tracks.

Their album is all thriller, zero filler.

IAN SWEET's most consistent set of songs to date.

With their dark fidelity and overly spacious arrangements, these new meditations feel almost as if they were unearthed from some distant vault of preserved wax cylinders rather than re-recorded.

Silver Dollar Moment is a stunning debut, and if it doesn't quite reinvent the wheel the way that The Stone Roses did, it does have a uniquely sweet spirit and lighthearted beauty all its own.

The album seems pleasingly scattershot as it bounces from guest to guest.

The album's laid-back, off-the-cuff experiments are just enjoyable instead of brilliant, but they nevertheless display the undeniable creative chemistry that the trio shares.

Rarely, if ever, have synths sounded so truly urbane, and the cumulative effect is postmodernist pop music that sounds simultaneously cutting edge, retro, and utterly timeless.

It is one of his best in years and is filled with witty, thoughtful songwriting and polished instrumentation that works together to make a seamless album, engaging the listener.

It feels utterly natural, a continuation of the emotional navigations she's spent her career documenting with characteristic insight and sensitivity.

A record that stands out as a career highlight in an already very impressive and inspiring career.

DZ Deathrays' roaring rawness and furied energy create a sense of momentum that makes the sound their own.

While they need to focus more, there's enough potential here to ensure that there's plenty to choose from.

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

Key track "Rhythm Is All You Dance" is the zeitgeist with a thumb piano plus a keyboard line that's kin to the Ohio Players' "Funky Worm," but this excellent debut is a journey worth taking from beginning to end, and often.

Midnight is an impressive debut, one that's good enough to kind of make one a little angry that Lissvik didn't get around to it sooner.

While by no means a replacement for the originals, this is a fine collection highlighting several of Funkadelic's many aspects, serving as a party celebrating P-Funk and the Detroit music scene.

Murderburgers shows that King Khan is growing as a songwriter and a vocalist, and he's a great collaborator, as he and the Gris Gris bring out the best in one another in the studio; hopefully the next bunch of friends he works with will work as hard and as well for him.

PITH is a thrilling leap forward for the band that sees them hitting all the marks they hit so well on their debut and then leaping past them into new dimensions of sound and energy.

Desert Window is her first full-length, and it's a more fleshed-out expansion of her sound, incorporating more acoustic instrumentation as well as more complex choral harmonies.

While the album is far from rote, Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will certainly feels familiar; it may not be as immediately impressive as some Mogwai albums, but its back-to-basics approach makes it another fine addition to their body of work.

Theatrical and heartfelt, Celebration is a fully realized debut that promises even better things to come.

Possibly too understated, Woolhouse could benefit from more pronounced changes and variations in his writing, but taken as a whole Songs is a warmly rendered mood piece full of layers and quiet yearning.

Though more than a few of Wilkinson's contemporaries are working in similar territory, A Mineral Love goes beyond mere re-creation. For Bibio, these are the good old days.

Interiors is not only a quality record in isolation, it also encourages a reappraisal of their two previous efforts and the band's wider significance. Nevertheless, it's not an exercise in rehashing old glories, either.

Released six years to the day after Phife's death, Forever serves as both the final realization of his artistic statement, and a loving tribute to the memory of the artist himself.

Space Gun doesn't quite match that underappreciated masterpiece, it comes close enough to confirm that Guided by Voices are quietly in the midst of a late-career renaissance.

Emotionally powerful, darkly beautiful, and troubling yet genuine at the same time, Don't Be a Stranger is the sort of album only Mark Eitzel could make, and if it's not always as strong and as focused as one might hope, it honors his muse better than he has on his own in some time, and shows this master songwriter still has some worthy stories left to tell.

Months after scores of music fans went bananas over an opportunistic resuscitation of a deceased peer's studio scraps, Brandy, a superior vocalist ignored or disregarded by many of those same people, released one of her best albums.

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.

Ultimately, Las Que No Iban a Salir is more a mixtape than a proper third album; and as such, it works. It offers snippets and full-scale portraits of Bad Bunny in process, all the while showcasing his curatorial skills and providing thoroughly enjoyable performances.

Whitechapel is a band that is definitely worth checking out, and with its expansive and devastating sound, this self-titled album makes for a great jumping-off point.

All four members of this indie supergroup make Overseas unique, but at its highest heights, the Kadane brothers make the band great.

In theory, balance and restraint aren't the most exciting virtues for an album to possess, but in practice, Liminal's subtlety is confident and dynamic.

Mudhoney remain bloody but unbowed, heavyweight champions of fuzz and feedback, and on the evidence of The Lucky Ones, no one with any sense is going to challenge their title anytime soon; they built this strange machine, and they can drive it better than anyone before or since.

The Coincidentalist is one of Gelb's most realized efforts; despite its relaxed, airy presentation, it's musically and lyrically provocative, as poetic, strange, and mysterious as the desert itself.

The songs themselves are easy to approach if difficult to decipher, and the production details reward repeated listens.

This is still a Dr. Dog album and it's bound to put a smile on your face. These guys have a real knack for making classic-sounding rock & roll and Shame, Shame is the sound of a fine band really hitting its stride.

An extended pilgrimage to New Orleans allowed the longtime friends to hone the 11 songs that make up Through Low Light and Trees into something truly magical, and while the album is clearly the product of the green fields and misty mountains of their homeland, it's obvious that the time spent in the Big Easy had a profound effect on them.

Contact is certainly a showcase for all the things the Noisettes can do well, but more focus would help define them as eclectic popsters instead of fickle ones.

On Big Sur, Frisell delivers an inspired musical portrayal of the land, sky, sea, and wildlife of the region with majesty, humor, and true sophistication.

Odds are strong that no like-titled album is as cold as this one.

The album's widescreen sound and bone-fracturing impact leave no doubt that Killing Joke are still deeply committed to what they do, and it's genuinely remarkable that they're still sounding this furious and effective 35 years after their debut album.

The Far Field isn't a failure or a misstep, since there are so many good songs and their basic sound is still so strong. It's a shame that the band and Congleton felt the need to pretty things up, to make them sound more sophisticated and domesticated. It means that despite Herring's bravura performance, the album feels like a watered-down and lesser version of Singles.

Endangered Philosophies is another triumphant, socially relevant album from the masters of industrial shoegaze hip-hop.

Expressing grief, angst, and uncertainty just as loudly with a croon as a scream is no easy task, but Death Lust archives it masterfully.

As a whole, there is plenty of growth, craft, and quality songwriting here even if the approach is more polite than it used to be.

While uneven, it's an album that sticks, both for its theatrical melodies and uncommon benevolence.

None of these parts seem to fit on paper, but on record it's a gas hearing a group of gangsters and pranksters giddy on their own good times.

While the energy level feels drastically different between the album's clubbier first half and its slower second, Friday's music is always dramatic, honest, and futuristic.

It's a concise debut album that, with the exception of a few tracks aided by either Biako or Andrew Lappin, McFerrin produced herself, and it also exhibits her range as a singer and lyricist.

It may not be the second -- or third to be more precise -- coming of Lush, but it's good to have Anderson back and making music as pretty, sweetly sad, and ultimately comforting as Pearlies.

A more consistently angsty, saturated sound results that's in harmony with lyrics about struggle, self-examination, and challenging life events on songs with titles like "Change," "Sink," and "Fall Came Too Soon and Now I Wanna Throw Up."

Everything Must Go pushes the group's creative boundaries while maintaining the relatable songcraft and inclusive vibes that have helped build Goose a loyal fan base.

Not too many other bands working this side of the guitar rock street are able to bundle together hooks and heart, noise, and melody quite as well as White Reaper do on Only Slightly Empty.

The only song that seems to come from nowhere is the album ending "Wham Boom Bang," a jolly little knees up full of clarinets, cute guitar licks, and a saucy vocal from Zander. The rest of the album is Cheap Trick through and through, every song a reminder of how their past achievements were truly special, while at the same time letting everyone know they are still cranking out songs with all the manic energy, gleeful abandon, and pure pop songcraft they've embraced from the start.

Here, as with most of her career, Harvey doesn't go for the easy choices.

A multi-faceted and especially curious collection of Lightning Bolt material, Sonic Citadel shows the band still growing and developing nearly a quarter century in.

Most of the songs on The Traveler pass muster, and a few are excellent, but it's Miller's interaction with Black Prairie that really makes the album work.

Hesitation Marks makes it quite clear that Trent Reznor is no longer an angry young man but rather a restless, inventive artist who is at peace with himself, and the result is a record that provides real, lasting nourishment.

lthough the arrangements and material are monochromatic, What Matters Most isn't a failure by any means, thanks to Barbra Streisand's interpretive skills (as well as her flair for drama and her ever-beautiful voice). That said, this is not a record for those who love precocious Streisand best (Funny Girl, Hello, Dolly!).

Sense of purpose gets eclipsed by sense of self on If There's a Hell Below, but Black Milk deserves to ride the vibe of his previous work more than most. Consider this a returning fan's album, and then go about becoming one.

Everything is streamlined and stitched together with consummate finesse by producer Jay Joyce. None of this good-time, borderline silly music is going to earn the band any critical hosannas and anyone who had hopes that the group would ditch this sound and go back to howling garage punk is going to feel let down. That being said, people who don't take their music too seriously might find that You Deserve Love is just the kind of record to put on when some mood elevation is required.

Despite its frequently overcast tone, Straight Line Was a Lie is, in typical Beths fashion, dependably catchy and sweetly harmonic.

While For My Crimes contains her unmistakable signature in both songwriting and sound, as a whole it point to an open door for new possibilities to emerge in the future. It's sophisticated and emotionally arresting, it's among the finest offerings in her catalog.

Not that Tennessee Pusher is a huge fall off from "Big Iron World," it's just not a great leap forward and upward, although there are plenty of striking tracks.

It's a light stop-gap to hold fans over until Rae's third album.

While it isn't all great, most of it is, and while this isn't the best way for newcomers to acquaint themselves with Fela Kuti's music, it is an essential document for fans.

Long in the Tooth features ten new Shaver songs, and if his voice by now (the album was released in his 75th year) has worn to a deep, rough rasp, the songs are as strong and as vital and world-weary wise as ever.

Dey's music clearly isn't going to resonate with everyone, but it's unquestionable that she has a unique vision, and Flood Network is a restlessly inventive album.

Astral Weeks: Live at the Hollywood Bowl is not Astral Weeks, but it's brilliant and emotionally intense; it's honest and spiritually revealing.

While Let the Poison Out cleans up their sound a bit, it doesn't sacrifice the laid-back, chirpy, quirkiness that listeners have grown to love.

While fans of Royal Trux's inventiveness might find more of that in Hagerty's and Herrema's solo work, White Stuff is still another entertaining part of a reunion that once seemed impossible.

These tracks are balanced by a few sparer intimate ones steeped in nostalgia and an uncertain hope. Throughout Two Saviors, Meek's uniquely kindly tenor conveys evocative phrases and settings that likewise stand apart from the crowd.

Her Brit-pop soul treacle is still miles better than some of her contemporaries' top-tier offerings, and when the album connects it moves right in and starts to redecorate, but when it falters, it's akin to a chatty party guest failing to realize that everyone else has gone home.

A lifelong troubadour whose wandering ways have seemingly found some respite as a Los Angeles family man, the native Chicagoan cracks open the door and reveals himself in a way that manages to strike an elegant balance with his more cryptic tendencies.

With Pony, Orville Peck could probably get over on sheer audacity, but his talent is as impressive as his ideas are smart and unexpected, and this is one of the best and most fascinating debuts from an alt-country adjacent artist in a very long time.

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

New is one of the best of McCartney's latter-day records: it is aware of his legacy but not beholden to it even as it builds upon it.

Sometimes it's electronic music you can rock to, sometimes it's neo-disco tech-house you can sing with, but it's always the fringe of dance-pop at its peak put together in a razor-sharp package.

Meanwhile, David Bottrill's dynamic production (his credits include King Crimson and Dream Theater) is perfectly suited, and only enhances the band's ever-intensifying talents.

Every melody is blanketed in psychedelic sounds, giving a unified feel to the record, even if the music isn't always easily containable.

A danceable memento mori, Dumb Flesh is mischievous, poignant, and quite likely Sacred Bones' most accessible release of 2015.

As You Please can sometimes come across as overly dour, but Citizen are masters of uneasiness and wield that power like a sword.

This music shows that Buck is a very good friend to have in the studio; he knows how give a song the setting it needs, and this is a dark but richly entertaining delight.

While undoubtedly more developed and ambitious than the first Jackie Lynn record, Jacqueline still sounds like the work of an experimental side project, but it's clear that Fohr and her friends are having an awful lot of fun with this, and it's easy to get swept up in their immersive dream world.

It's dramatic, it's grand, and it proves yet again that Martin Phillipps hasn't lost a step and will hopefully go on for a long time making records as good as Scatterbrain.

Darker and more assured than its predecessors, Land of Sleeper parses the outrage and catastrophizing of the social media age with gravitas, yet it does so with a watchful and curious eye.

As on Anniemal, Don't Stop contains some of the catchiest, most clever dance-pop in circulation....The collaborations with Xenomania (five songs), Timo Kaukolampi (three), and Richard X (one) aren’t as powerful, however, with a good handful of their songs no match for Anniemal’s weaker moments.