Everything on this impressive outing fits together like honey and smoke in a warm but vibrant Texas breeze.

True Hallucinations is an impressive debut and one of the purest, most innocent-sounding pop records anyone is likely to make in the ironic, convoluted era in which they exist.

This may be a flashback to the sound of a decade prior, but after getting so far away from their metal roots, most fans will agree that this balance of creepy ambience and pummeling riffs is a welcome return to form.

Even if they quit after this, the album will stand as one of the best duet records of the era.

Occasionally, Callers' sheer prowess on these songs is almost overwhelming; but though Life of Love's relative restraint made it a more accessible on first listen, Reviver unlocks even more possibilities for the band.

With Stones, Gustafsson and Stetson have encountered not only one another in a magical way, but they communicate the power of beauty itself.

Sudol's expressive voice (both sonically and lyrically) and her tasteful and innovative arrangements help to steer the narrative into more abstract realms than one would assume upon simply reading the press release.

Target Earth is not only better than we had any right to expect, it's relentlessly creative, inspired, and manic.

n. Out of View is an impressive debut but, more than that, it's the sound of shoegaze and early-'90s guitar pop at its best.

The songwriting is the driving force behind the album, and any reservations about whether or not Frightened Rabbit would transform into radio-friendly M.O.R. are swept away.

What Monoswezi have created is a unique and intriguing fusion, and this album barely scratches the surface of possibilities. Where they take it will be fascinating.

The depth of the songs passes by unnoticed for the first several spins, but a world of strange detours and unexpected emotions is right below the surface.

Candela works well as an entry point into Pierce's earlier music as well as a summation of how artfully he blends electronic, indie, and global influences.

Ultimately, Get Up! earns its titular exclamation point as a successful combination of two talented veterans feeding off each other's dusky, creative spirit.

Though Burnt Up on Re-Entry trades a little of his earlier work's singularity for a more flexible approach, it shows Sweet can defy expectations, and should pique the interest of anyone partial to metal's more experimental side or post-rock's heavier side.

Musically, Hatebreed sticks with the blueprints that they used to build previous outings like Satisfaction is the Death of Desire and Rise of Brutality, but there's an impressive sense of workmanship to Divinity of Purpose that suggests a steady diet of more traditional metal.

There aren't a lot of bands that can pull off making something so quiet and unassuming but with as much emotional pull and drama as The House at Sea. Amor de Días do it with ease.

The way Buke and Gase pull together no wave's sense of texture with dance-punk's ear for rhythm is impressive enough, but the cohesion and approachability of General Dome are really what make the album.

On Triple Beams' marriage of the Dead Milkmen's irreverence and Wire's brilliant, repetitive simplicity makes the album one that will definitely scratch the itch for any punk fan, and will make a quick fan out of anyone not already on board with Tyvek's grinding punk goodness.

From the opening moments of the trippy, lo-fi intro "From the Sun" all the way to the funky-as-a-Hendrix-ballad closer "Secret Xtians," II takes risks and achieves greatness.

On Afterman: Descension, Coheed and Cambria prove that while they may be more accessible than ever before, it's not for lack of adventure or musical ambition, it's because of them.

She's turned in her most mature work and coincidentally some of her most enjoyable.

The Man Who Died in His Boat may be a smaller-scale album than either Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill or A I A, but it's no less lovely or moving because of that.

As good as the songs are, the distinguishing characteristic of Electric is its atmosphere, how the music jumps and breathes, how Miller has given Thompson his liveliest album in years and, on just sheer sonic terms, his best in a while, too.

Highlights include the folky "Sneak Out the Back Door," the jaunty, joyous-sounding, and lovely "Blind Eye" (which sounds just a little bit like vintage Donovan without the hippy-dippy lyrics), and the oddly hopeful (for Sexsmith, anyway) "Life After a Broken Heart," although the whole album feels like a uniform meditation on aging, mortality, and the affirming wish to go forward in spite of what's been.

In somebody else's hands, the introspection of Lovesick Blues could turn solipsistic or sodden, but he strikes precisely the right notes, creating an album that serves as a suitable soundtrack for long, lonely nights.

We Will Not Harm You does just what it does on the tin, and so much more.

While all of Groban's albums are immaculately produced affairs, All That Echoes is one of his best.