Schmilco is clearly music for autumn, meant for cool nights, crunching through the leaves, and the occasional dark night of the soul. And it speaks volumes about Wilco that they could make two albums so different within such a short space of time, and both times giving us music that sounds like no one else.

Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Rendition Was In) demonstrates Sharon Jones gave 150 percent every time she stepped up to the microphone, regardless of the circumstances, and this album is a testament to her great talent as well as her gift for putting her own stamp on any song she chose to try on for size.

Even at its darkest and strangest, Koosha's music rarely feels like it's trying to punish or alienate the listener. He seems excited to explore the possibilities of music-making technology, and the results are endlessly fascinating.

There are moments when a few different "shades" of heavy are detected, including the beginning of the aforementioned "Shitlist" and the album-closer, "Lend Myself to the Night." However, for those who like excuse-free metal cranked to ten from beginning to end, DevilDriver have assembled one gnarly Beast for you.

A joyous re-creation of what they've always done best, while the performances are crisp and energized, as taut and passionate as ever. And Ed Stasium's production is smooth but natural, flattering these musicians without intruding on the natural punch of their music.

While key samples of blues, soul, and gospel vocals still make significant appearances, there's much more of Romare's own playing than on his past releases. Additionally, his tracks sound less wobbly and choppy than they used to, and they seem to progress a bit more.

Not every collaboration is as strong as the sum of its parts, but Painted Shrines is a wonderful example of two like-minded artists bringing out the absolute best in each other.

As far as Punch Brothers albums go, Hell on Church Street is a bit of an odd bird in that it's an album of covers chosen by someone else. As a nod to Rice, however, they honor his spirit well enough.

BROCKHAMPTON have consistently been on an upward trajectory, improving upon each previous effort with the maturity and skill of much more seasoned artists. Ending this part of their story with grace and simplicity, The Family is not only a thank-you letter to fans but to the guys themselves -- a band of brothers who came, conquered, and clocked out while still on top.

Cleveland's vocals are unfortunately low in the mix and it's often difficult to make out the lyrics, but approached simply as another instrument in the ensemble, her soft, breathy tone is lovely and enigmatic, and the layers of echoey guitars and '60s-style keyboard sounds blend wonderfully with her vocals.

Throughout its first ten tracks, Fatal Optimist offers occasional philosophical gems, like "Sometimes a good thing can break you/Sometimes a bad thing can save you" from "Good Lair," a song that also wonders, "Is it really that bad to cover up the sad?"

While Last Summer has enough ties to her work with the Fiery Furnaces to please fans, it gives Friedberger the time in the spotlight she deserves.

Despite the weight of its materials and themes, Metallic Life Review often feels lighter and more delicate than some of Matmos’ previous work. Nevertheless, casting their lives in bronze, aluminum, nickel, and steel lends a personal dimension to their music that's especially appealing.

Nextdoorland is a more than worthy addition to their catalog, and proves that two decades apart has not diluted their remarkable chemistry.

Riff, vamp, timbral fractures, lyrical tension, splintered harmonics, and a constant, seductive sense of groove permeate this jazz album, opening up a door onto a brave new future for a free jazz with soul -- Spooky has exceeded all expectations here.

[Corgan's] joyful spirit surges throughout Mary Star of the Sea, even during its many intricate instrumental sections, and it's hard not to get swept up in the momentum, especially since it's married to his best set of songs since Siamese Dream.

While Killing Joke's discography has more than its fair share of awkward and overly ambitious albums, they've once again returned to the fury and focus of their classics.

It's a strong accomplishment, and if you were unlucky enough to have missed this intimate string of shows, it's a document that comes close to bringing the experience into your own home.

Taking disparate elements from their collective record collection, mashing them up, and spitting them out... the members of Silkworm nonetheless end up sounding like few other rock bands of their time while hardly sounding like a cover band revue.

It's a double-sided hook that clears the murkiness from the remaining five tracks, while simultaneously improving the first half (especially tracks like 'California Girls' and 'Please Stop Dancing') when spun for a second or third time.

Since the band cooked up an excellent 12 songs in only a few weeks last year (which they made available as a free download titled the Last Day of Summer), it should come as no surprise that the laboriously constructed follow-up is a masterpiece.

Voids is yet another taut and lavishly detailed, yet never congested, set of productions that hybridize U.K. garage, dubstep, drum'n'bass, house, and techno, with an emphasis on the rhythmic friction of the first two styles.

Strange and exciting as ever, So Much Fun touches on the various elements of Young Thug's unconventional appeal and also turns in some of his best material to date.

The songs are filled with good humor and wry details, the music played with exuberance and casual virtuosity, a combination that amounts to an outright celebration of the many things that makes Texas great.

Consummation is a bold step forward and confirmation that Katie von Schleicher has a great deal to offer and should be creating satisfying music for a long time to come.

Ribot and Ceramic Dog push their vitriol about the state of the world to new heights, crafting an album that balances a sustained punk dread with moments of primal, yawping rage.

The very pleasant surprise is that Nance and his bandmates -- guitarist James Schroeder, bassist Derrick Higgins, and drummer Kevin Donahue, with some extra guests sitting in -- slip into this music with an easy authority, more languid but no less emotionally engaged than his more raucous efforts, and the spare acoustic closer, "In Orlando," leaves no doubt that Nance can do heartache at 3 A.M. every bit as well as he can summon a wall of fuzzy mania.

This album continues the colorful and reaching work of the albums that preceded it, and if this pairing of Swift's deft production and Jurado's risk-taking songwriting continues, even greater things are on the horizon than these already gorgeous songs.