This may or may not be Williams' final album but if it is, it serves as a superb coda to a career that always found deep meaning in ease.

Immaculately produced and performed, I Can See the Future is chock-full of breezy, likable retro-pop that's made for people who like their nostalgia delivered through the wonders of modern fidelity, and while it may put off, at first, those with a predilection for Mandell's darker side, it won't take but a spin or two make them see the light.

Thought and care are in these songs, and they all fall together in a nice flow.

Hypnotic Nights still delivers all of the brilliant power pop worship that we've all come to love from JEFF the Brotherhood, and if the album isn't able to kick off your summer, nothing will.

The occasional recorder and kazoo only add to the weirdo charm of this very fine album.

[Guthrie's] story is presented here in this wonderful set.

Though the environment that birthed the appropriately titled Gossamer may be a bummer, the end product is winningly majestic as it is obviously spun by the most malevolent of spiders.

His first official solo outing (he recorded a rollicking 2009 album under the moniker Lady of the Sunshine) finds the Australian singer/songwriter successfully bridging the gap between bearded Laurel Canyon rambler and bearded indie pop urbanite.

Go Outside is less messy than one might have expected from Hot Panda, but that hardly means they've gone slick; now they have the chops to make the most of the pop instincts they've always had.

Unearth boasts enough charms on its own, offering up ten enigmatic, audio time capsules that strike a winning, oddball balance between the cool, Krautrock sheen of Kraftwerk, the naturalistic, glitch-filled hum of The Books, and the melodious pop stylings of early Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark.

Solid, purposeful, and crafted in a manner that betrays both Drew's age and the album's hurried road to release, Ill Manors makes heavy-hitter number three for the rapper, suggesting that Plan B doesn't issue albums, just milestones.

An album that begins as a one-woman cabaret show discussing humanity's past and future and remains the work of a singular voice, one that recognizes that silence is just as vital as music.

This cohesive piece is still dotted with stand-out moments.

Major feels like the coolest church service ever, devoid of dogma and ritual, and consecrated by the unholy smack of a thousand high-fives.

Major feels like the coolest church service ever, devoid of dogma and ritual, and consecrated by the unholy smack of a thousand high-fives.

Pujol really shines when he pulls out his protest signs and shares his shrewd, but never cynical, take on modern society.

The group's atypical instrumentation and inventive use thereof results in captivating if mercurial waves of sound and a listening experience that reveals its complex nature as it goes on.

Country Funk: 1969-1975 illuminates a brief but fruitful period where genre lines blurred, and both genres benefitted mightily.

While much of Susanna's reputation may have been built on her skills as an interpreter of other people's songs, Wild Dog is a testament to the subtly haunting power of her own music.

All of it works, there's plenty of ambition with little over-reaching, and the most striking bits of the album are striking for unexpected reasons.

This does have the familiar tunes, so it serves its purpose.

The perfect blend of modern and classic, Loma Vista is an album with a unique vision that captures the spirit of modern alt-rock (with all the trimmings) yet is rooted in classic pop songwriting. It is an album that is honest, earnest, and entirely unpretentious.

For all its expansiveness and ambition, Medicine Man is expertly produced and sequenced; the Bamboos have not only retained their identity, they've created something so passionate, warm, and immediate, it's almost impossible not to be seduced.

Bear Creek feels both easy and immediate, which is usually what happens when talented artists finally figure out who they are, and that heartache, failure, defiance, and confidence can all go to the dance together.

So overthink it if you must, or accept Burning Love's emphatic kick in the head for what it is and let your ears do the rest.

On Christian aTunde ADJuah, Scott and company create a seamless, holistic 21st century jazz that confidently points toward new harmonic horizons.

It's tender, gentle, and expresses what absence teaches in the music and poetic language of Gothic Americana -- without nostalgia or artifice.