Born with Stripes, is a quietly enjoyable listen, something where emotions get expressed with often restrained energy--but, crucially, never lacking that core energy to start with.

Bones is undeniably still a solid follow-up that should consolidate their second-tier status, but they'll have to change the record next time around if they want to move into U.K.'s alt-metal big league.

Fast Moving Clouds is superb smart pop for a lazy afternoon; it's also an impressive first salvo from Sarah Bethe Nelson, who as both a vocalist and a songwriter confirms she's an artist to watch.

At 17 tracks, it covers a lot of ground and not every track is a winner, but there's a decent number of promising artists here.

Big K.R.I.T., Rapsody, and CeeLo Green boost PRhyme 2 with their distinctive voices and energies. At a time when multiple producers and playlists/mixtapes rule the rap game, the focus and intent on PRhyme 2 are comforts that PRhyme effortlessly nail.

Despite his busy release schedule, Jim Lauderdale seems incapable of making an album that isn't heartfelt, well crafted, and thoroughly engaging, and Time Flies is further proof that he's making some of the best country music in the 2010s.

While the rewards are there, the hooks are few and far between, resulting in the kind of overly personal transitory album that can either lay the seeds for a full-blown masterpiece, or render the garden infertile.

At once balanced and eclectic, Silver Eye may be the first Goldfrapp album to represent all the sides of their music equally well--no small feat, considering how long they've been dancing to the beat of their own drum machine.

Beyond the Sun plays it cool and plays it authentic--these aren't reinterpretations, but sincere homages--and if this doesn't have much grit, it has plenty of style and heart.

Its spacy, half-dreaming vibes remain close enough to Earth to keep things accessible and not swamped in reverb but still pretty far out by merit of the band's own inventiveness.

The Royal Sessions is enjoyable: it sounds like Rodgers is having a good time, so it's easy to have a good time too.

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.

Ultimately, with Future Hearts, All Time Low have delivered an almost perfect blend of stadium-ready fist pumpers, ballads, and fuel-injected pop hits.

Whereas the original Run the Jewels 2 was a perfect soundtrack for a night of mayhem, Meow the Jewels is the comedown after all that rabble-rousing.

A much different but just as powerful statement as their debut, the Magnetic North have once again crafted something that is wholly unique.

There's a looseness to the sound that gives it some needed warmth and dynamics, while there are still enough vintage synths and spacy overdubs to keep it weird and home-cooked. So, the best of both worlds.

To some ears, this album might sound like demos or unfinished sketches, but its simplicity seems to be Pajo's way of saying that sometimes it's best to appreciate things for what they are, and just be happy you're alive. He seems to be at peace, and that carries a great amount of significance.

At its best, My Name Is Safe in Your Mouth is a hauntingly lovely reintroduction to an underrated talent.

This band have maintained a creative vision that's served them beautifully, and their commitment to the power of dynamics and finding the details of a song by leaving room to ponder the details and textures has led them to write some great material and also find unexplored landscapes in the work of other tunesmiths. Songs of the Recollection captures them doing the latter with grace and intelligence.

Moving On Skiffle is light and lively, an easy record to enjoy.

Anger can be power, and the musical and emotional furor of Shade is a powerful and much-needed weapon in a chaotic time.

An album that's an uneasy mix of a band that's fully in control of their sound, making some good choices as they expand, but also occasionally toppling over as they overreach. It's worth checking out for the songs that work -- the group certainly haven't lost their touch when it comes to uptempo gloomy synth pop -- and the less successful moments aren't enough to sink the album entirely.

Arranged with a sense of brevity, Ca$ino is limited to just eleven songs, making each of its entries feel both more unique unto themselves and more significant as part of a larger statement than the usual overstuffed commercial rap record.

Like Hermits on Holiday, it's first-rate experimental rock made by two musicians with interesting, complicated ideas and the skills to bring them to life.

Merritt doesn't deviate from his signature lo-fi synth pop and brooding vocals, but he certainly sounds like he's having a whole lot of fun.

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

They aren't necessarily breaking new barriers here, but that's not really what Alter Bridge are looking for. For longtime fans, there's enough heft and craft here to satisfy, while new listeners will find a solid entry point into the band's growing canon.

Much like 1999, 2000 is a showcase of musically rich throwback production, with jazz-flecked instrumentals and smooth boom-bap beats backdropping Joey's controlled bars and lyrics of New York City life.

More gutsy, more aggressive, and more dynamic than B.R.M.C.

The band surely meant for this to be a stopgap until their next album, but rather than giving this a spin it would be more rewarding to go back to Con Todo el Mundo and enjoy its many charms instead. The ways they explore the outer reaches of dub on that album are truly exciting, while this comes off like a school assignment in comparison.

Even if it's not as traffic-stopping as her debut, this album suggests that she can keep her music interesting for the long haul.

This is easily the best-sounding album Doherty has been involved with, neither self-consciously "raw" nor overly polished; it lets the music be as simple or as elaborate as it needs to be.

Luckily, the majority of Gracious Tide, Take Me Home plays to the band's beautifully swooning strengths, and in doing so, produces one of the most majestic debuts from a British act this year.

If You're Dreaming definitely isn't as immediate as Quit the Curse, and while it isn't a demanding album, it requires a bit more concentration in order to understand it better.

Creep On Creepin' On is the sound of Timber Timbre fully coming into its own, with romance and strangeness to spare.

Overall, Marks to Prove It feels a bit anxious, but that's not necessarily to its detriment, and four LPs in, the Maccabees are still making smart and sophisticated Brit guitar rock.

Dear God, I Hate Myself is also the band’s most overtly electronic album in some time, with several songs composed on a Nintendo DS that gives the darkness of “Apple for a Brain” and “Secret Motel” an unpretentious, somehow friendly feel.

Not surprisingly, Trampin' is a largely political album, but it is far from a didactic one.

On their stunning debut, the Richmond, VA, foursome can sound as crisp and ethereal as Portishead, as otherworldly as Tom Waits, and as atmospheric as Radiohead.

Califone takes familiar elements and often combines them in unfamiliar ways without sounding unfamiliar or ever losing sight of the song.

Life on Other Planets is a smashing return to form, an album giddy with the sheer pleasure of making music.

Hotline holds together remarkably well as an album, due to good track selection and intelligent segueing; in fact, some of the songs actually run together quite smoothly, with no break between songs. Rarely does a rock band forge such a strong identity so early in their career.

If you're looking for irony, you're out of luck; if you want to hear a rock band confront the blues with soul, muscle, and respect, then thickfreakness is right up your alley.

Forget the easy Gibbard/Tamborello comparisons and look here if you seek more mope with your Moog.

There are occasional missteps, of course, with Becky Stark’s spoken interlude in “Cradle”--a spot-on vintage ballad that dissolves into pure camp--being the worst offender. But the vocals rarely disappoint, and vocals are Love to Live’s bread and butter, anyway.

Saying The Grand Theatre, Vol. 1 is a return to form unnecessarily belittles the last few Old 97's albums that came before it, but calling it their best album since Fight Songs is just about right.

The Baseball Project doesn't do fluff songs on the subject, though, and the songs on this second outing, like they were on the first, are intelligently written and arranged, running the full spectrum of emotions that baseball can inspire in a fan, and in so doing, the best of the songs rise above novelty to grapple with the passions and difficulties of life itself.

What the Obits do reasonably but not remarkably well isn't as important as where they excel on Moody, Standard and Poor, and when the pieces mesh just right, this band does guitar back-and-forth as well as anyone since Television, and rocks a whole lot harder to boot.

Nursing Home is the best kind of second album--it reminds you why you liked Let's Wrestle in the first place and manages to improve on an already stellar offering.

Songs like this--imaginative, contemplative, densely wordy, slightly silly but unflinchingly earnest--are arguably Lewis' strongest suit, especially in his recent work, and if the instances on A Turn in the Dream-Songs aren't quite as striking as those on its predecessor, the album still ranks right up there among his best.

It may be only four songs long, but Vasquez makes up for its small size by packing even more ominous drones and evil-sounding synths into it.

People, Hell and Angels certainly isn't the place to start your Hendrix collection, but collectors will surely want to hear this and it provides an interesting perspective on where Jimi's music was headed post-Experience.

Though it may puzzle initially, its substance is such that it creates a mysterious and compelling listening experience that assures one that more will be revealed.

Though worlds away from White Hinterland's soft-hearted chamber pop beginnings or more recent dreaminess, the dire overall feeling of Baby represents vivid, undeniable growth for the project.

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.

That bifurcated sentiment is best laid out on prime cuts like "1999," "Too Late," "These Arms," and the luxurious title cut, all of which ooze atmosphere and vulnerability, but are denied oblivion by the grounding force of Grossi's remarkable voice.

It's all spirited and lively. At their best, the wide-eyed folk-soul moments tend to evoke a contemporized version of fellow Englishwoman Linda Lewis.

The whole album is pretty good, sometimes even really good. The Parrots may not be doing anything new or even close to it, but they give the corpse of garage rock a good kicking and that's a pretty cool.

Lady Parts is a fun, slightly chaotic album that captures the creative spirit of golden age rap, updated for the damaged attention span of a generation raised on social media.

There's some solid world-building going on here, but not a ton of innovation.

While it does contain a few songs that could be split off and saved, it mainly goes to show that she makes for a better melancholy dream pop artist than a singer/songwriter with her toes dipped in Americana and soft soul.

Persuasion System signals a bit of a different approach for Haley, but not so much that it will alienate anyone who enjoyed his earlier releases.

While its charms might take a few spins to unpack themselves, Andersson and Dornauer have applied their own unique set of filters and experiences to the dreamier side of post-rock on this solid debut.

It manages to enrapture thanks to solid layering and intricate patterns -- even if those patterns never really go anywhere -- yet wholly relies on listening to dance music for relaxation. With that requirement fulfilled, Bedroom Tapes shows that Woolford can embrace his softer side with effective results.

Chronologically sequenced, it presents an alternate, semi-secret MC timeline. It starts with an upbeat Mariah Carey outtake, ends with a 2020 acoustic version of Butterfly track "Close My Eyes," and more importantly contains some prime B-sides.

The album is celebratory rather than mournful, channeling the positive, creative energy of these spirits and honoring the fleeting miracle of life.

Leaving Why Bonnie's previous home-brewed and indie pop leanings behind, 90 in November and its solid songs mark a confident step forward into the domain of dreamy, twang-infused rock.

At times, the first two Amber Arcades albums felt like they were made by someone feeling her way toward something better; Barefoot on Diamond Road is where de Graaf arrives.

Prizefighter is marginally better than its predecessor, dispelling some of the awkwardness of a long hiatus and reinforcing Mumford & Sons' reputation as purveyors of quality comfort food. It's hopeful, reflective, safe, and deeply rooted in the folk and country traditions the band knows intimately.

Cuts like "Possession," "Grudges," and "The Last Two People on Earth" have a cavernous, late-'80s and early-'90s alt-rock majesty, as Martinez frames her cracked porcelain vocals in shimmering, reverb-heavy guitars and synths, broken-glass percussion, and orchestral strings.

Altogether elegant, moving, and often beautiful, Not to Disappear leaves Daughter, without question, on the heavier side of the emotional spectrum, but, like the Cure's "Dark Trilogy" 35 years prior, is sure to connect deeply with some listeners and stand out not only among pop contemporaries but among other emotive, textured indie pop.

Shut Down the Streets is as accessible as it is rewarding, and as refreshingly idiosyncratic as it is revealing.

Clockwork Angels demonstrates why, after 36 years, Rush's fan base continues to grow. Its musical athleticism and calisthenic discipline are equaled only by its relentless creative drive and its will to express it in a distinct musical language.

Shifting into metalcore territory is a tricky decision, since a lot of their initial appeal was due to the fact that they were making their own personal stamp on revitalizing punk--a genre that's becoming increasingly saturated with commercialism. Here, they seem less unique.

Soft Airplane is a more focused outing; one that rarely travels outside the indie pop realm.

Freeclouds has a little more up its sleeve than either a clear break from Tanton's past or a simple extension of it.

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

Not only has she written an engaging set of songs, but they are played and captured with gusto.

They sound more confident than ever, igniting their cabaret-rock with more crazed inventiveness and you-are-there immediacy.

The swirl of sonic suggestions throughout the album ranges from Laurie Anderson to These New Puritans to Active Child to Planningtorock to Brian Eno and David Byrne's collaborations and much more besides, all tied up and presented as an immediate and incredibly enjoyable art pop album without apology, an increasingly distinct and unique prospect.

It lovingly invokes both the past and the future without fully submitting to either.

When the final piano twinkles of the heartbreaking ballad "Última" close the first half, the album shifts to mixtape mode with the flood of additional hits that pack the back end, making Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran a great two-for-one set that is essentially a short new album and a de facto "Greatest Hits 2022-2024."

Both intimate and powerful, Quit +/or Fight is a striking achievement.

There are more twists and turns, more textures, than on any other McCartney album in the last 20 years, and if it's a little messy, so be it: it's better to have Paul letting it all hang out instead of hanging back.

In short, the Messthetics are not Fugazi, but they are a bold, bracing, fearless band from Washington, D.C. playing music that challenges and dazzles, and that's more than enough reason to make their debut album worth your time.

While several tracks are less than essential, the mixtape's best songs are powerful enough to make Demidevil the strongest showing of Ashnikko's formidable skills and uncompromising energy to date.

Sparke touches on poetic remembrances of people, places, and joys as well as the more preoccupying struggles, making for a mature and poignant introduction.

Learn to Sing Like a Star was certainly worth the wait, and if fans will listen closely enough, they'll understand that Hersh's sophistication as both a singing poet and composer has grown almost immeasurably.

Between the Times and the Tides cements Ranaldo's role as a dreamer and poet who can remain true to himself and reveal new things at the same time.

The confidence that courses through Self Worth is matched by Mourn's unguarded songwriting.

That Numan can still juggle melodrama and musicality with such effortlessness is impressive, to say the least, but that he can make it so compelling is what sets him apart from his old guard new wave contemporaries.

Four years in the making, Can Cladders could have come off the presses as an indulgent, overwrought opus. Instead, it simply (but oh-so-craftily) distilled a career's worth of creative tangents into one solid, focused effort that, if you're observant enough, holds its own amongst the likes of the Llamas' comparative "elite."

New Wave is crisp, direct, and sharp. It's clean, but not glossy; it's defiant; it's brash; it's heartfelt.

It's a bleak album to be sure, undoubtedly inspired by the downtrodden national mood of the times in which it was recorded. Ann's voice is strong and convincing on these tunes, largely drawn from the '60s and '70s with a few exceptions.

Those of centrist or conservative political persuasions may decide this is a socialist document. Let them. For Morello and others, this recording claims songs from organized labor history, which are more relevant now than ever; he includes his own contributions to it as well.

Shape Shift finds Zombi returning to their earlier sound and reliably crafting sturdy, horror-tinged neo-prog.

Suck It And See may be at the opposite end of the spectrum from the Humbug--it's concentrated and purposeful where its predecessor sprawled--yet it still demands attention from the listener, delivering its rewards according to just how much time you're willing to devote.

Even if this is Snoop's first album with a single producer since the monolithic, Dr. Dre-helmed Doggystyle, don't call it a comeback, call it lark, and a funky, welcome one at that.