Ultimately, the EP lives up to its name, offering reflections on A U R O R A that enhance that work and are compelling in their own right.

It succeeds as an introduction to Charli XCX the Pop Star while retaining her whip-smart songwriting and attitude.

Fryars has made an album that is cinematic, endlessly listenable and out of this world good.

Fans of either band--and experimental music in general--who appreciate Savages and Bo Ningen's restless spirits will likely enjoy Words to the Blind for what it is: equal parts duet and battle, and a hell of a ride.

Live in Dublin reveals Leonard Cohen is actually growing and improving as a performer as his 80th birthday looms on the horizon, and this unexpected and welcome new chapter in his career continues to reap surprising and delightful rewards.

There's evidence that she has studied the classics, like the point in "Broken Hearted Girl" where she quotes Teena Marie, and the quietly dazzling, Janet Jackson-like way in which she conveys longing throughout "Request." At the same time, she leaves a mark of her own with this, one of 2014's superb debuts.

Sylvie Simmons is smart enough to know the best thing music can do is touch the heart, and that's just what Sylvie does--whatever her résumé may say, one listen to these songs proves Simmons has the smarts and the instincts of a true musician, and her debut is a true gem.

Standards finds Cole at a place of razor-sharp renewal. He uses the past unapologetically yet vitally, and delivers a record fans will find both irresistibly familiar and firmly of this moment in his career.

Here, it's possible to hear the band gel--Alex Chilton and Jody Stephens found a balance with Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow, something that's obvious by the group's subsequent history, but on this spirited show you can hear the gears fall into place and that's worth the price of admission, perhaps more than once.

Berkeley to Bakersfield is one of Cracker's most ambitious and satisfying sets in quite some time, as good as anything they've given us since Kerosene Hat in 1993.

At its best Tētēma is just as intelligent and compelling as Patton's collaborations with John Zorn; hopefully Patton and Pateras will have more dangerous visions for us all in the future (if there is one).

Sounding both effortless and intricately composed at once, PRhyme is an instant classic, and one that sounds better and better as repeated listenings reveal more of the details hiding behind the album's deceptively straightforward approach.

This set is a major go; it extends the qualitative trajectory of The Blackening and Unto the Locust.

These complicated combinations of sounds and feelings suggest that Reznor and Ross are nearly as skilled at emotional manipulation as the film's characters, and Gone Girl's ambiguity and dread make it their most haunting work yet.

Homeboy Sandman's biggest attractor is still his pride, a quality that's even more up-front as his career matures. Hallways beams with it, making it one of those rare rap records where true talk meets the warm fuzzies, or the warm motherfuzzies, as it were.

Luke Winslow-King may sound like a gentleman on Everlasting Arms, but one listen to this album will convince you that when it comes to music, nice guys really can finish first.

With There's a Blue Bird in My Heart, Parker circles to embrace his electric guitar and crafty songwriting again with excellent results.

The issues raised on Bitter Tears are still relevant, and Look Again to the Wind reminds us that art can still speak eloquently about the best and worst parts of the human condition, and it's well worth investigating.

The coming-of-age and kinetic SremmLife reminds listeners that jumping into "poppa's chair" was a thrilling mix of pride and new opportunities, plus, the album doubles as a guaranteed party soundtrack.

This is the sound of a band that's growing fearless in middle age, and while the record occasionally does drag--all those long songs push it over an hour, but the sequencing makes it feel even longer--there's also a thrill hearing a band unafraid to stumble.

This is very clearly the Decemberists, but with a new kind of focus in their songs and arrangements that makes it clear this album's sound is a result of creative evolution, not an offering to their newer, larger audience, and it's a sweet and sour wonder that rewards repeated listening.

By maintaining a more or less accessible alt-pop center, Mangan and company have given themselves free reign to fill in the edges with whatever they see fit, which they do with gusto throughout Club Meds' perfectly acceptable 45-minute runtime, which is something that only happens when a band, not an individual, is firing on all cylinders.

Like Earle's best work, Absent Fathers is low on flash and high on emotional honesty and perceptive songwriting, and paired with Single Mothers this is some of his most intelligent and moving music to date.

Even if Alkan's association may suggest something more banging, this debut is perfect for overcast afternoon sessions or anytime the head is melancholy while the feet crave movement.

How to Die in the North is an undeniably tasty dish, served hot or cold.

Matador may initially seduce with its slow, enveloping assurance but the reason it lasts are those songs, as exquisitely crafted and enduring as anything in Coombes' rich catalog.

All in all, Slurrup is a smile-inducing reminder that it's too easy to pigeonhole him as just a master craftsman--and that Hayes' pop is arguably even more potent when it's not quite as elaborate.

They do what they do quite well and this cohesive debut should win them plenty of fans.