It's an album that doesn't really need to peak, as it never promises a thing it can't back up, boldly and loudly.

4everevolution is an appropriately titled, subtle progression which proves that intelligent hip-hop and accessible urban pop don't have to be mutually exclusive, and in the process, Roots Manuva has produced his best record since his 2001 breakthrough, Run Come Save Me.

If Jones' performances and compositions over the years have touched on themes of yearning and the past, with a soft echo into the present day, then it stand all the more to reason why the album title and the cover art--a guitar-playing cat, looking at the moon--should sum up the feeling of The Wanting so well.

Except for the occasionally bumpy ride, though, The Less You Know, The Better is one of the most entertaining albums of the year, with countless moments of brilliance.

Keeping such a schizophrenic affair entertaining and connected is a feat in itself, and Spank Rock's second album shows that, despite long odds, Juwan can succeed on his own terms.

The Kid's voice has aged, lowered, and mellowed, but otherwise you'd think this witty genre-spanning, time-jumping collection of tropical kitsch and too-cool nostalgia came from the group's golden era.

Clash Battle Guilt Pride digs deeper with each listen, especially thanks to a maturity that gives Stadt's sandpapered lyrics more emotional pull, makes the songs more memorable, and ultimately, begs just one more listen.

While Conatus isn't as direct as Stridulum, it's still some of her most satisfying work.

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

Everything's easy and natural, and the Stepkids sound more like purveyors of the genre than imitators. Quite an accomplishment.

The result is a strong, confident record that's his best solo effort to date.

After three more amorphous recordings, Trust Now reveals a mature, realized Prince Rama sound, at once intoxicating and beguiling.

Such a well-built slab of indie rap that a four-year wait seems well worth it.

Their darkest and most complex work yet, In the Pit of the Stomach unleashes We Were Promised Jetpacks' full fury with impressive results.

On the surface of things, this is a bit of an odd task, taking left-behind lyrics from one of the great songwriters and breathing life into them. But nobody here seems intimidated; they seem honored -- and there are some pretty good songs that come out of the project.

Given that the core members are composer Dustin O'Halloran and Stars of the Lid veteran Adam Wiltzie, it's little surprise that both those conventions, and how to work well beyond them, are within their grasp on this debut release.

Educational and emotional in a uniquely approachable way, these songs are a lovely part of a bigger picture.

[The second version of Just in Love is] a minor blip on an otherwise immensely entertaining and enjoyable pop record--inspired, tons of fun, and positioning Joe Jonas as a worthy successor to Justin.

Violent Hearts is a resoundingly successful debut that puts the band right at the front of the line of all the reverb-heavy, backward-looking indie pop bands that overran the music scene like seagulls on the beach at low tide in the early part of the decade.

Ghost to a Ghost/Gutter Town is easily the purest expression of Hank3's crazed country vision to date, and anyone who's followed his wild ride owes it to themselves to give it a listen.

Ultimately, Beautiful Rivers and Mountains is more than a mere curiosity piece; for all its easy-to-recognize styles, Shin's way of enmeshing them into something original underscores rather than erases their strangeness and splendor--even to widely exposed Western ears--making this is an excellent introduction to his work.

Behind the Parade is another superior album from one of rock's true unsung heroes, and chances are it will sound just as vital and exciting two decades hence as it does today.

With Telecasters and drums driving, and Valenzuela's mariachi trumpet singing above it, it's a cracking way to close an album that defines what Americana is.

High Places' third album finds the duo of Rob Barber and Mary Pearson all the more comfortable and assured in a realm of moody electronic pop for the 21st century, at once drawing on familiar roots and putting distinct, enjoyable spins on the results.

It's a testament to Hawthorne's songwriting ability that this wall is easily scaled after one or two listens, and that the man sounds more natural and loose than on his debut might be this album's greatest asset, making the vulgar drops and other nods to the present feel less mannered than before.

Bad as Me is an aural portrait of all the places he's traveled as a recording artist, which is, in and of itself, illuminating and thoroughly enjoyable.

The album deliver psychedelic pop with an expansive, cinematic feeling, letting listeners get lost in its slow, drifting melodies.

Although the album seems like silly fun on the surface, there is enough complexity to the interlocking synth lines and clattering rhythms to give the music some weight.