The soulfulness and melancholy of these songs make them special among Tellier's body of work, giving more depth to Confection than might be expected.

The concept is artful and logical, yet ARTPOP never insinuates or settles in the subconscious; it always assaults, determined to make an impression even when all it has to say is that it doesn't have much to say.

While it may lack some of the focus of its predecessor, it retains every bit of its oddball charm.

Funny thing is, most of the best moments on MM LP2 are just as angry, and just as irresponsible, but like "Closet," this is the tortured soul and self-reliance ninja known as Eminem at his very best.

The result is terrific, a record that builds upon the group's legacy and is easily the equal of anything the band did in the '90s.

There's nothing here that screams big hit–-but it's something better: the work of a diva who is comfortable in her own skin.

The appropriately titled Tender Madness, more or less backs that notion [go big or go home] up with 12 emotionally charged slabs of Foster the People- and Killers-infused highway anthems, of both the fist-pumping and soul-searching varieties, that flirt with mainstream architecture yet retain enough of a ramshackle, post-slacker luster to appeal to fans of Weiss' previous outfit.

Fans of BP will no doubt delight in this masterful set, while newcomers will experience their brand of mind-melding consciousness expansion en masse.

While these kinds of weird departures would be hard for any other band to pull off, Tres Cabrones shows that, even after 30 years, the Melvins are still as brash as ever, and the album feels like a fitting way for the band to ring in a big anniversary with an old friend who was there at the very beginning.

This ultimately winds up as one of Avril's livelier and better albums; it's all about the good times, no matter how temporary or illusionary they may be.

In its own way, it's some of his strangest music, and might appeal more to fans who appreciate his willingness to try anything once than those expecting a repeat of his previous album.

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.

To be fair, the band still sounds like they could break into "Breathe" at any moment, but there's a sense of adventure and a vulnerability to Antiphon that suggests that this latest incarnation of the group is more interested in what's beyond the Dark Side of the Moon than it is standing in its shadow.

By many measures, Blunt's richest and best collection to date.

Cut Copy may have left behind the monochromatic brilliance of their early work, but the explosion of colors they've added like Jackson Pollock on a bender has only made their growth more interesting and enriching.

She makes listeners wait for her still-formidable skills with hooks and melodies, displaying them most stunningly on "Bad Girls," a sinewy, menacing track whose origins date back to 2007 sessions with Danja.

Rice's sepia-tone tales of worry, wisdom, woe, and wild-at-heart love feel authentic and lived in, and while they may lack the spark needed to light a fire that's big enough to bring him out from behind Lewis' shadow, they still manage to provide enough light to warm the bones of even the weariest traveler.

Surfing Strange is a picture of a band not in transition, but in an especially quick process of maturation. The results end up being no less instantly exciting, but more lasting and poignant than what came before.

Brain Holiday may not be reinventing anything, and Furlow could stand to take a break from his '90s worship, but the album does sound amazing and anyone who likes their guitars loud and melodies strong will find Brain Holiday something well worth digging into.

Perhaps the concept and execution are conventional, but even in this utterly expected setting, Clarkson retains her fiery, individual spirit, and that's what makes Wrapped in Red appealing: to the letter, it delivers what it promises.

The problem is, shooting for the stars is really where the Airborne Toxic Event are at their best, so while songs like "Timeless" and "The Fifth Day" might feel like the band treading on old ground, it's when they have the time and space to really stretch out that they're able to get up to full speed.

Much of it is among Autechre's most direct, least complex output, yet it's no less fascinating than any of their intricate material.

Overall, it's an impressive debut that's sure to make fans of any of the bands the trio came from really happy.

Rather than subverting culture, the band goes one step further, subverting the expectations of listeners by performing the songs without irony. Most surprising, however, is how well these songs work with Bad Religion's driving and melodic style and Greg Graffin's distinctive voice.

They make everything work, really, and Inventions ends up being one of the better garage psych revival records anyone's likely to hear in 2013.

Is Survived By features more of the Los Angeles hardcore outfit's furious, passionate, intensely personal sound.

Neither as intricate nor as emotionally varied as releases from inspirations and contemporaries like Gold Panda, Quarters is short on obvious standouts and distinctive qualities, but it is steady, conducive to beginning-to-end listening.

Unapologetically sullen and raw, Girls Like Us is a strong debut from a band with a lot to offer.

Though it blisters with intensity, it boasts well-written songs illustrated by canny production, played with confident recklessness and vulnerable honesty.

Track for track, Swamps just might be Widowspeak's most consistent work yet.

Throughout the epic set (which seems to have been played to less than 50 people from the minimal amount of cheering and banter between songs), Phillipps and the umpteenth update to his backing band maintain an air of autumnal detachment and sinister cool, true to their best moments even though the performance happened so deep into their career.

Tall Tall Shadow is easily the songwriter's most fully realized effort; it should expand her audience reach considerably--even if it leaves some of her more purist followers by the wayside.

Guthrie truly believed that songs should be of social service, and when the country asked for his songs, he brought them, as any patriot would. That dozens of these songs are enduring, beautiful, and wise makes Guthrie even more than that. It makes him an American treasure.

While the creative process might be something that's constantly changing for Lott and Son Lux, the one thing that's remained consistent is the level of quality, making Lanterns an album that easily lives up to, and even exceeds, any expectations fans would have for the project.

While Nielson would be well-served by sticking with the colorful mess of sound the band seemingly effortlessly creates, he could go the melancholy troubadour route and make that work too. Blue Record is certainly proof of that.

The Devil Makes Three's most consistent and balanced album yet.

While it's true that it possesses fewer standout performances, it's wholly consistent, and on some level, it's braver for relying on original material to carry it. It requires more listening to appreciate fully. Taken as a whole, however, it serves and fulfills the role of a sequel: the album deepens the band's music-making aesthetic, and further establishes their sound not only as a signature, but even, perhaps, as its own genre.

Get There is as pleasurable as anything Hatfield or Nada Surf have offered listeners in recent years.

Man & Myth is Harper at his best, fully in command of his vision, his curious, lovely melodic sensibility, and, of course, his poetry.

The most shocking thing about the album is how consistently good it is.

An album that's not only satisfying, but one of the band's strongest works 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.

A classically trained ivory tickler, Krug's compositional style is as esoteric as his prose, lending an unpredictable musicality to the proceedings that allows the listener to forget that they’re essentially listening in on a very intimate solo performance.

Wed 21 progresses from her previous recordings, but it's an extension of them, not a departure.

Reflektor is as fascinating as it is frustrating, an oddly compelling miasma of big pop moments and empty sonic vistas that offers up a (full-size) snapshot of a band at its commerical peak, trying to establish eye contact from atop a mountain.

Regardless of the musical ingredients that went into this album, Corsicana Lemonade is their most down-home batch of sweet southern brew yet.

Even though The Paradigm Shift might not be the album that listeners might expect after a reunion with Head, it shows the kind of creativity and inventiveness that, love them or hate them, helped to make them an influential force in heavy music.

These songs are fun, energetic, and full of backcountry outlaw attitude.

There are things that don't work here: there are stilted, wooden arrangements that mar "I'm Am Not Waiting Anymore" with Sam Amidon, and Vernon's duet with Carter on Bob Dylan's "Every Grain of Sand." Otherwise, I'll Find a Way is a fine, if uncharacteristically restrained, Blind Boys of Alabama recording.

Guilt Trips is a soft, serene, and inspired debut.

Though Funk's main gig with the Decemberists might seem to be about as far from Red Fang as you're likely to get, the producer's penchant for intricacy helps to lend the album a certain depth, channeling the band's inclination toward brute force into something altogether more expansive while still keeping the grittiness of their sound intact.

There is no doubt that Scattergood is deeply connected to the journey that she voyages through on Arrows, and it's clear that only a small future refinement would result in more songs like the shimmering electro-pop of "Subsequently Lost."

Thanks to the introspective nature of the songs and the mannered production, they took something totally alive and wild, and wonderfully fun and exciting, and not so magically turned themselves into just another dime-a-dozen indie rock band.

A gorgeous showcase that brings together everything you've ever loved about Wareham's music, Emancipated Hearts isn't just a mini-album, it's a minor masterpiece.

Khaled does his usual cheerleading and gets some production credits himself, but the real trick he pulls off is inspiring all these artists to somehow save up all these high-grade club tracks and singles for the DJ's annual dispatch. Suffering from Success, once again.

Perhaps she's too subtle to be a stadium-filling superstar, but the superb 12 Stories showcases a unique artist who stands firmly, proudly on her own merits.

With Burials, Havok and AFI don't just bury the castle of wrecked relationships, they put to rest any notions that they aren't kings of their dystopian rock kingdom.

The songs depict a torrid breakup, and she has restless yet tightly controlled electronic backdrops that suit her mood. Whether she merely had to get this out of her system or has found her true voice, it's one transfixing emotional hell of a follow-up.

It's a thrillingly bright and shiny noise pop album that is a positive addition to all the participants' already impressive résumés.

Despite this somewhat disjointed feel, Situation Comedy should still please most of his fans, whether or not they've kept up with his busy release schedule.

It might not be the full-length follow-up to You Are All I See that Active Child fans are waiting for, but brevity aside, the high quality of the songs on Rapor more than fulfills on Grossi's promise.

In some instances, it helps to not be much of a Donna Summer fan. Afrojack transforms "I Feel Love" into a graceless barrage of battering noise and reduces Summer's vocal to pulp, while Greene's "On the Radio" has Summer so heavily echoed and distant that it could be titled "On the Radio (At the Bottom of a Deep Well)."

While the band's elemental sound doesn't show much in the way of innovation, the spirit of true rock is so strong within it that it doesn't really matter.

Ultimately, Outside's exercises in nostalgia are pretty, smooth, and inoffensive, but not nearly as interesting as CFCF's debut album or the EPs that followed it.

It's too bad the EP is saddled with a couple duds, because when it clicks and the music, words, and playing all get it right, one is reminded of the energy and fun that made the band worth checking out in the beginning.

Even if Shulamith isn't as strikingly original as Give You the Ghost, the growth in its songwriting and emotional complexity suggests Poliça are in it for the long haul.

Prism [is] a tighter, cleaner record than its predecessors--there are no extremes here, nothing that pushes the boundaries of either good taste or tackiness.

The extra flair of random trumpets, strange tape experimentation, and walls of fuzz bass contributed by the rest of the band just add to the colorful wash of sound, up there with the best Elf Power compositions of the past.

Horseback makes extreme underground music from the mysterious South; this compilation is the indisputable proof.

All of which helps to make That's It! a vibrant, engaging work and one of Preservation Hall's best albums.

There are too many shifts in mood here from track to track--but it is without question a worthwhile record, as its best moments are strong, substantive reinterpretations that illustrate just how good a songwriter Peter Gabriel is.

Put Summer Camp in the category of bands that are too good to ignore, but too uneven to truly embrace. Summer Camp is frustrating proof of that sad fact.

In Vagrant Stanzas' 52 minutes, Simpson has taken us not only though the music of the British Isles and America, but through his own history, directly, honestly, and poetically.

Although at times they come close to overshadowing the subtle instrumentation provided by Major and Dan Rothman, it’s actually the intrinsic balance between the contributions of all three that defines their sound.

The combined effect of the sometimes tortured words and the gentle, never-conflicting currents of folk, anthemic rock, cinematic instrumentals, and mannered pop create a welcome impression of a group that acknowledges that they've entered a comfortable middle age but are happy to fight against complacency however they can.

It's a variation on the JBs' dubbed-out compound of synth pop and post-disco, and it suits Lanza's voice to enticing effect.

While rap-rock is a sound that's prone to disaster, the band has the confidence to make it work, finding just the right blend of angst and swagger to pull the whole thing off.

Temple is very good at indie rock, and his indie folk was always pleasant, but he seems to have found his true niche on Good Mood Fool, and it's his first album to carve out territory that is unique and truly interesting.

Lissie's strength is how she uses the past as foundation, not aspiration, and that's why Back to Forever is a lithe, unpredictable, and seductive collection of modern pop: it places equal emphasis on song and sound.

An album in the old-school sense, with expansive tracks and detours that still add up to a cohesive whole, Last Night on Earth offers more proof that Ranaldo's music is just as satisfying, if not more so, on its own as it was as part of one of alternative rock's supergroups.

Carve out the ultimate party EP, or consider the highlights too high to miss, because this is Dizzee at his breeziest and is best taken in little bits.

Melophobia is a thoroughly modern rock record, where all the past is alive in the present, so if you've ever had affection for any alt-rock sound from the '80s through the 2000s, it's hard not to find something to enjoy here.

It gives old-schoolers a reason to dust off their jungle hoodies and drum'n'bass shoes, while the 2013 set get a bottom-heavy, funky, and passionate alternative to the current crop of bright EDM and light indie electronica.

Not only is it a welcome return, it's one of the Fratellis' most consistently engaging albums.

Each song on Fetch feels so meticulous and so conscientiously crafted, it's hard to listen to it without arriving at a cliched but undeniable truism: good things come to those who wait.

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.

Nuanced, dark, funny, harrowing, but also amiable, Mark Kozelek and Desertshore is one of the more digestible and entertaining documents of what could stand as the most prolific writing period of Kozelek's already inspired career.

Warm, weary, and congenially intimate, Joe Pernice, Stephen Desaulniers, Bruce Tull, and Tim Shea have crafted a fine new set of understated anthems for the terminally wistful and forlorn, all of which strut and fret their hour upon the stage in that elusive grey area between melancholic, bottle-strewn, front-porch country and resigned, Sunday afternoon, post-pot roast AM pop.

While it's not necessarily Dead Meadow's masterwork, it shows a band growing into its sound and mellowing nicely without sacrificing any of its radiance by exploring less extreme territories.

Fanfare travels easily between intimacy and more psychedelic-influenced euphoria because Wilson's songwriting remains his ace in the hole. For all its laid-back deference to his production, it's tight, clever, and artfully constructed.

Red Hot + Fela's unique yet nearly seamless-sounding collaborations offer a deeper hearing of Afrobeat in light of its wide-ranging implications trans-culturally, both in the present era and as it points toward the future.

The experience of listening to the album is a harrowing one, but the bevy of unexpected shifts, sidesteps, and complete submission into patches of noise makes it one of the more adventurous metal records of its type, and speaks to the long-fought amounts of work and thought the Body have put into their ever brutal, ever forward-looking sound.

It seems the change in membership has reinvigorated them, providing their songs with a sense of stability that shines through on an album that easily ranks as some of the band's most exciting work in recent years.

Some other experiments only warrant a B or B+ and the whole jumble might feel odd to a newcomer, but since it is mostly returning fans at this late point in the discography, Head Up High earns its title with only one or two flicks of the skip button.

While the more approachable Album of the Year makes for an easier entry point into the man's discography, this one is deeper, and artistically more filling.

Scotty's redefinition of himself as a sports bar-hopping bro is plainly shameless but, strangely enough, See You Tonight works, partially due to the Rogers-shepherded collection of cheerful country-pop but also due to the malleability of McCreery's dude-next-door persona.

Hecker's sound signature may still be instantly recognizable, but there is no denying that he has moved significantly farther down the path toward something else with Virgins.

Rather than nervy and isolated, this re-formed version of the band feels like they've got things more sorted out, replacing the uncertainty that marked albums like Emergency & I with a more carefree vibe. The change is one that makes sense, though.