Never less than sweet and engaging, The Loveliest Time may not be as ambitious as its predecessor, but when it comes to Jepsen's lighter-than-air pop, it just might be more consistent.

It's not always the most forceful or aggressive protest music, though it does have its harder, more bracing moments. Instead, much of it seems to search for the peace and tranquility that would be present in the absence of war and violence.

As big and as diverse as the guest list is, the album hangs and flows effortlessly.

At its heart it's just a collection of songs, but it's that rare thing for a songwriter: it works as a piece of writing and a sterling pop album of its own.

All in all, Copeland has delivered a solid set of music, easily recommended, that should please her fans and translate to some dynamic performances on tour.

The List is a renewal and a testament to life, and it belongs to her father as much as it belongs to her, a beautiful restatement of her father's passions, only now, they've become his daughter's treasures, as well.

Gloss Drop may be more accomplished than the band's debut; even if it's not quite as much of a powerhouse as Mirrored was, it shows that the trio version of Battles is lean, creative, and surprisingly adaptable.

Sprawling and searching for truth, Hella Personal Film Festival is another excellent Open Mike Eagle album, and if it doesn't entice those with short attention spans, that's their loss.

Seven years is a long time to wait between albums, but if that's how long it takes to make the album as good as this is, then the wait was worth it.

I Grow Tired But Dare Not Fall Asleep has a despairing seductive power.

A fascinating musical ride that defies any attempt at categorization.

It all makes for a breezy yet powerful expression of independence from an artist who is always true to herself.

Nothing here is surprising, of course, but Years of Refusal is a full-bodied, full-blooded album that also happens to be fully realized--even if it is on a rather modest scale.

Preoccupations is a more coherent, more accessible set of songs that proves this band doesn't need an edgy name to attract the attention they deserve.

The addition of simple pop elements to Commontime and the fact that the Brewis brothers manage to keep cranking out music this intelligent and flat-out fun to listen to without ever having the slightest dip in quality, makes it one of their more interesting and rewarding efforts to date.

The album comes out as their most organic since 1998's Good Humor; even the tracks driven by programming are warm in comparison to vast chunks of both Sound of Water and Finisterre.

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

Graduation is neither as bold nor as scattered as "The College Dropout," and it's neither as extroverted nor as sonically rich as "Late Registration." Kanye still makes up for his shortcomings as an MC and lyricist by remaining charmingly clumsy, frequently dealing nonsense through suspect rhyme schemes.

While the accompaniment is always thoughtful and inventive, Prekop's vocal idiosyncrasies tend to be a double-edged sword, delightful on the good songs but only accentuating the dreariness of failed experiments like "Le Baron" or "Try Nothing."

What they really are is a 21st century version of a good old Southern rock band who know all too well that the hills of North Mississippi are alive with real folk music.

The Mendoza Line have mined this kind of socio-political territory before, but never with so much fatalistic maturity.

Retro-soul aficionados who claim they don't make 'em like they used to will obviously be thrilled with this, but even contemporary R&B fans can't help but be moved by the emotion and passion evident in every note of this riveting set.

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.

The band's free-form style of playing is every bit as anti-musical and explosive as '70s no wave, making for a savage listen.

They work hard to make it a true collaboration, and due to that effort and the high quality of the songs they each brought, it works amazingly well.

Algiers, both band and album, offer musical and topical intensity alternately malevolent and passionate in searching and affirming truth, human and otherworldly. All of these seemingly disparate historical musical elements are distilled in such a startling manner, they carve something new from the fragments.

Gunnera is bound to appeal more to Menomena fans than to casual fans of the National, but while it's unconventional, it's even more so enthralling, loaded with worthwhile atmospheres and grooves.

A fun, unpredictable album that is sure to confuse some listeners, but it fits right at home with the nonconformist ethos of Ninja Tune.