EP release Pulsars e Quasars offers something of an introductory grab bag of the various styles that Arp is capable of.

The album is dark and haunted, with the same sense of paranoia that touched Curiosity, but even with production handled again by Unknown Mortal Orchestra's Jacob Portrait, the songs sound more live, visceral in a way that comes when a band graduates from low-key house parties close to home to nightly international touring.

Fans of the band will find enough familiar ground here, but Wild Animals shows a continued creative evolution at work.

If In Flames' last decade of material has been your cup of tea, than Siren Charms is likely to sit well with you, but for those still holding out for a return to the glory of their work from the '90s, the wait continues.

In spite of its extra padding and occasional foibles, it's a strong debut and Hozier is far more commanding and convincing than so many other blues-inspired young turks lurking conspicuously in the alleyways of indiedom.

As with the self-titled album, this is all glacial, entrancing ambient-neoclassical--with O'Halloran's sensitive and melodic piano a central element--that soothes, suitable for both foreground and background listening.

This is an immaculately crafted, impossibly tasteful miniature, one that will satisfy any listener longing for a Radiohead stripped of future shock.

His musical language has evolved into a sound that is not only ambitious, but instantly recognizable.

As a Vaselines album, V can't help but be disappointing. None of the unpredictable magic they used to be able to conjure, in the distant past and on Sex with an X, is on display, and they seem to be resigned to the fact that they are just a good rock band now.

The entirety of Heartleap is wispy, spare, understated, and moving in its insight and honesty.

Iceage have done a fair bit of reinvention on Plowing Into the Field of Love, but if the sound is less brutal, it's no less challenging, and emotionally this hits as hard as anything they've released to date.

Like his great aunt, and his great uncle John Coltrane, Ellison has created exceptionally progressive, stirring, and eternal art.

All this means that Playland is superficially more pop with all its style and flair, but it plays more like a rock & roll album, always in a hurry to make its point understood as quickly as possible.

It's a good thing she dug through her back pages and finished these songs, as she's wound up with one of her strongest albums.

Thought-provoking, sonically dazzling, and sometimes bewildering, Let's Dance Raw is a lot to process, but it feels like a wish for honesty and intimacy in a world bent on destroying itself.

In the Orbit of Ra is close to essential for fans and a pretty good place to start for the curious Sun Ra novice. He really was writing music for the 21st century.

Morris is lucky to have such a sympathetic group of musicians to play with, and the well-produced combo of words, vocals, and music make We Come from the Same Place another treat for fans of thoughtful, painfully adult indie pop music.

They're all laced with small details, subtle twists, and gradual intensification.

A World Lit Only by Fire makes it crystal clear that Godflesh have a long, unfailing memory, and that their punishing work has only just begun.

Good chance newcomers will fall for the singles and be frustrated by the perceived filler, but that's the biggest fault with Wonder Where; it could be more persuasive and open.

All told, Our Love stands as the most straightforwardly danceable Caribou album to date, but holds on to both the experimental bent and composition-minded musicality that helped build the project's one-of-a-kind sound world.

A feeling of acceptance underpins Everything Will Be Alright in the End: there's a sense that Weezer made another record of massive, hooky rock not only because that's what the fans want but because they know it's what they do best.

Peaking Lights simply push for greater clarity and articulation on Cosmic Logic, refining their approach but keeping the blurry balance of rhythm and sun-dazed psychedelia.

Not everything sticks. Some of the lazing tracks verge on rudderless meandering, but as a whole, Shaker Notes is a fascinating detour.

They want to be everything to everyone and, in attempting to do so, they've wound up with a record that appeals to a narrow audience: fellow travelers who either thrill at the spectacle or dig for the subtleties buried underneath the digital din.

Kravitz deploys all his considerable sonic skills on songs that are purposefully trashy and unapologetically fun and the result is pure pleasure.

The problem here, though, is that with the exception of the above songs ["Love Ain't a Love Song," "Oh Beautiful!," "Never Give All Your Heart," and "Trouble Town"], and maybe one or two others, the songs on Different Shades of Blue shade toward the generic side of things, and no matter how wonderful and gorgeous the guitar tones may be, it's hard to make a generic song sing memorably.

With so much confidence and gothic swagger, it's hard not to be entertained by this album, and listeners who may have been thrown by their inconsistent early work would do well to dive back into the abyss with this third effort.

Like much of Boratto's previous work, it's all superbly crafted but not much of it leaves a lasting impression.

It nicely blends the spontaneous charm of a homemade record with the professionalism expected from a rock veteran who made something good out of a tough situation.

While Hold on Pain Ends is generally well played and well produced, little new ground has been broken and by and large it comes across as a fairly standard, mainstream pop-oriented metalcore record.

With all the elements in place, the late-era The Violet Flame sits on the top shelf of Erasure albums, and considering all the greatness in the back catalog, that's no easy task.

If his bitterness is unavoidable in the lyrics or in his voice, his music softens his bite, turning these tunes into melancholy laments instead of invective, so there winds up being a bit of a needed cushion to Mellencamp's straight talk on Plain Spoken.

Intriguing but muddled, Tyranny puts plenty of musical distance between Casablancas and the Strokes, but too often it lacks the clarity to be anything but challenging in the wrong ways.

Popular Problems reveals that at 80, Cohen not only has plenty left, but is on top of his game.

The band's laconic, devil-may-care charm is evident throughout the 11-track set, but they seemingly lacked the follow-through to ensure that their deal with the cloven-hoofed and bifurcated-tailed swindler included the ability to conjure up some hooks.

It's hardly fair to wish hard times on songwriters just so their work might sound more real and meaningful, but if they have to suffer, one can at least hope that they are able to turn it into the kind of revelatory art that Lerche has on Please.

Equally bold, vulnerable, concise, and expansive, Too Bright dazzles.

Cheek to Cheek is a record where the music and even the songs take a backseat to the personalities.

The craft Zoot Woman bring to Star Climbing'a best moments continues to set them apart from the ever-growing number of similarly minded acts.

Lady Antebellum always have been a pop band so this concentrated gloss doesn't feel inappropriate.

Oldham’s intentions behind re-recording these relatively recent songs are puzzling, but the curious nature of the album is just another chapter of the mysterious, and in this case highly enjoyable saga of Bonnie "Prince" Billy.

It's in Mended With Gold's second half that the band feels the most engaged.

For as much as Way refers to other acts, this is a thoroughly original work, a vibrant reflection of all his artistic obsessions.

Time to Die is not Dopethrone; you only get one of those. But its well-tread riffology is enough of a back to basics approach that it should bring alienated purists back into the EW fold.

It seems like he missed an opportunity here to really put his well-earned gravitas into a genre that would be ripe for it. That the rather mundane and conservative A New Testament is the end result of his country explorations is a bit of a shame.

On their 2014 record, Feel Something, the History of Apple Pie do a fine job of delivering a second album that has much of the same sterling properties as their debut, while giving their guitar noise with sugar-sweet melodies some tweaks here and there, just enough to serve as a progression instead of an unwanted stylistic leap into mediocrity.

This music is taut and soulful, but also a document of one woman baring her spirit and mind to the world, which has always been the case with her best music, and if this isn't a masterpiece, it's as pure, straightforward, and compelling as anything she's done since Essence.

It's a welcome return for Car that shows how fun and powerful his music is when it's focused and direct.

Somehow at once entertaining, comforting, and challenging, Lily-O sees Amidon again pushing his distinctive perspectives through songs that belong to everybody.

Electric Youth's debut is a well-constructed, carefully thought-out debut that belies its long gestation process and will make people who fell in love with them thanks to the Drive soundtrack very happy in a melancholy kind of way.

If the songs on PlectrumElectrum don't stick the way those on Art Official Age do, it's nevertheless a quiet thrill to hear Prince spar with worthy partners, as he does throughout this record.

If the album doesn't offer any startling surprises along the lines of the furious "Black Sweat"--there's not much abandon here--there's joy in hearing Prince embrace his lyrical eccentricities as he accessorizes his smooth jams and coiled, clean funk with such oddities as laser blasts and spoken introductions from what appear to be British nurses.

While it's nice to see Rowe explore more, all the stylistic gymnastics leave Madman feeling, at times, a bit disjointed. Despite this, the album is easily the singer's most accessible and eclectic record to date.

It's a record where the sum is greater than the individual parts.

Some of the songs could have been fronted by anybody. Hudson occasionally sounds disconnected from the material, but the singer, as powerful as ever, still leaves her indelible mark on everything.

This is something better: a record designed to carry on the tradition of smooth, fizzy bubblegum into the new millennium and, against all odds, it succeeds mightily.

Offering works as a live culmination of Coltrane's musical journey, a homecoming and spiritual communion with the deep, creative forces that drove him right until the end of his life and, based on the music here, one can only assume beyond.

This double-disc live album, recorded during a 18-month-long tour in 2013 and 2014, reveals a clearer and more in-focus look at what Clark offers than Blak and Blu does.

These songs may be about ambivalence, but Park grows more confident with each release.

He's wound up making records that are the new millennial equivalent of classic soft rock, records informed by the trends of the day but which place emphasis on melody and craft, which is why they resonate: they come on smooth and easy but have the foundation to last.

Add to the mix boundary-pushing production and what might be his most developed set of tunes so far and the album immediately shuffles to the higher tiers of an already stellar body of work.

All but the most stuck-in-the-'90s shoegaze fans will see that Sway is an album that would measure up to almost any album made by the first wave of shoegazers. And by the current wave of revivalists, grave robbers, and crafty thieves as well.

That penchant for edgy refinement, along with frontman Joe Newman's impossibly fluid voice, remains the band's most effective weapon, but it's hard to pinpoint where and when that magic occurs, as it's so effortlessly woven into the group's sound.

Low on frenetics, Syro is anchored by rotund and agile basslines that zip and glide, and it's decked in accents and melodies that are lively even at their most distressed.

There are times when tracks drag slightly, but it's safe to make an assumption that soon there will be a change in style, rhythm, BPM, or dimension, resulting in a complex and magical record with many twists and turns.

Ultimately, Dude Incredible is a good but not great album from an undeniably great band; it doesn't sound lazy, just short one or two top-rank songs that would bump its status up a notch, but it's clearly the work of as strong and interesting a band as you can hear these days.

Weirdon feels more lighthearted than its predecessor, offering just as many aggressive guitar freakouts and blasts of antagonistic noise, but handing them over this time with a smirk instead of a scowl.

We Loved Her Dearly shows a lot of promise and there's plenty to like about Lowell's attitude and talent, but some gentle tightening of her vision would go a long way in strengthening her image.

Space Invader is the required retro return, one that's well-executed, from its '80s video game title to its mix of thick, singalong rockers and laid-back guitar show pieces.

I Don't Dance may sink its teeth in slightly slowly, but that's Brice's style: he lets the listener come to him and, once they're there, he offers a warm seduction that lasts not just for a night but for a relationship.

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.

Ultimately, Dead Man's Town is a good idea executed poorly, an effort to peel back the veneer from Springsteen's songs that manages to toss away much of the core at the same time.

This set manages to be reverent to Waller's original recordings, but since facsimile was never the goal, it also manages to create a completely new veneer for them, and the end result is a marvelous tribute that still retains its own shape and coherency.

Ultimately, Partners works as guided tour down Streisand's memory lane, and with her resonant voice still in supple shape, any excuse to hear her sing is a welcome invitation.

On Worship the Sun, their subtle excavation is even more impressive, richly rendered, and worth checking out than before.

A really strong album that shows Mazes growing in just the right way, adding some maturity and substance without sacrificing the things (great songs, youthful energy) that made them worth hearing in the first place.

It all makes for riveting listening for anyone willing to let Vessel punish--and reward--their ears.

The EP feels like a great extension of Julia with Blue Jeans On, and one can't help but wonder what phase Krug will develop toward with the next Moonface installment as he moves from one place to the next.

It puts together all the elements they've worked with in the past and added a few more, and the result is an emotionally powerful work that sounds great and is easy to dance, dream, or get bummed along to.

As direct as a touch and as subtle as feelings, This Is My Hand is exciting in a way that's different from Worden's previous work--when she sings "this is my time" on the title track, it's hard not to agree with her.

Brown combines memorable hooks with some stellar production work on the rubbery disco-funk of "Add Me In" (courtesy of Danja) and the blithe, swaying "Time for Love" (a collaboration with Jean Baptiste and Free School). In these and a few other songs, romantic affection, expressed with seemingly genuine sweetness, takes precedence over sexual aggression and petulance.

Though the complete stylistic overhaul is admirable, the earliest results of Ices' experimentation with her new sound are pleasant at times but less than gripping overall.

Aiko can be maddeningly platitudinal and singsongy, but her one dimension is a specific balmy backdrop provided by no one else.

Stripped of some its flair, the band sounds both invigorated and a tad unsteady (an Albini trademark), but never have they sounded more muscular.

Coming from the creative hotbed of modern-day Berlin, it seems like they could have pushed the envelope a bit more.

The gorgeous and haunting ending leaves more than a few questions unanswered, and begs listeners to play the album again from the start to seek them out once more.

The album feel as though it's fighting with itself, ultimately leaving the record feeling more conflicted than confrontational.

Jaiyede Afro marks a welcome return for Orlando Julius and overall is an excellent, fingerpopping, ass-shaking collaboration.

While this far more polished version of Lemonade is barely recognizable when held up to their earlier incarnations, their more developed aptitude toward hooks, melody, and intricate dance production makes Minus Tide a much more memorable--and in its own way, equally visceral--listening experience.

Delta Spirit's commercial aspirations may be more apparent this time around, but they've done an awfully nice job in pairing that inclination with material that benefits from the slick production, resulting in their most cohesive (and television- and film-ready) collection of songs to date.

Perfect Hair contains all the usual reasons Busdriver is wonderful, just with a little more sugar baked in.

While the rest of us went to work or college or worse after graduation, Avi Buffalo hit the road, but they too spent those formative years navigating the strange cognitive duality of post-high school young adulthood, and the sad, strange, and beautiful At Best Cuckold does an awfully nice job distilling that unease into audio form.

Even more ambitious, rewarding and exciting than its predecessor, Carnival of Souls is a thrilling album that raises expectations for the trilogy's final installment to the skies.

Even if it doesn't have as much of the jagged need that sparked their best work, El Pintor is Interpol's most consistent album since Antics; fans who love the band for its pure sound will probably enjoy it more than those looking for stop-you-in-your-tracks moments.

These songs puncture the gloss, so they make the greatest first impression, but that glimmer remains the reason to get lost within Ryan Adams: his blend of song and studio craft turns this eponymous album into the equivalent of a substantive, new millennial version of the Eagles' Long Run.

Crush Songs is a slightly strange choice for O's first full-fledged solo effort. Still, this unassuming musical diary showcases many of the best things about the music she makes on her own.

Don't call it a comeback, call it a triumphant return of the conquering heroes, and next time you want to rock unapologetically, this album ought to be among the first options.