At a time when so many bands co-opt various sounds of '90s indie rock and don't add anything new or interesting, Pip Blom make it work on Boat by basically becoming a '90s indie rock band and doing it better than anyone else around. Maybe even better than most of the bands they are borrowing from, too.

Ward's voice is a slap-delayed pastiche of Ron Sexsmith's easygoing croon and Andrew Bird's closed-mouth drawl, and like his front-porch fingerpicking, it's as effortless as it is effective.

Beautiful, thoughtful, and sad on a grand scale, Fordlandia is nearly as ambitious as the stories it tells, but unlike its source material, it's another success for Jóhannsson.

The cathartic release is absolutely joyous on this stylish party album, a heaping dose of maximalist escapism from a quartet that just wants you to dance your cares away.

The release of the Cool Kids' debut EP still radiated sonic excitement, a blast at once sharp, funny and intimate. Here, after all, is a triumph of absolute aestheticism.

It's all a pleasing time warp without turbulence, one with songs built more to evoke the past than to last in one's memory.

A Giant Dog's greatest strength, however, remains their ability to tap into the enduring elements of rock's true grit and create feelings that are appropriately cathartic, dangerous, and fun.

Their inspired, eclectic mix of sounds and textures is always playful, but Taiga's powerful playing and sophisticated arrangements make it OOIOO's most mature album yet.

After 15 years, Boris are doing exactly what they should with fascinating if uneven results: testing their limits as a band and expanding their sonic horizons.

Wabi Sabi definitely feels like an album that could only have been conceived in an arid desert rather than a bustling city, and the remoteness of the couple's surroundings has certainly made them pay more attention to details and take notice of small, unique things such as the scorpions that adorn the album's cover.

Making the most of the various environments where it was recorded, the album feels like a travel diary picked up sporadically along the way. Some entries expand on every thought and some are left half-finished, but these contrasting moods reflect the peaks and valleys of Vile's journey, both literal and metaphorical, in getting to this chapter of his music.

The rest of Laugh Track simmers at a precisely modulated temperature, bringing the songs to warmth slowly and steadily, which makes the ragged drone of the closing "Smoke Detector" so welcome: its insistent pulse and maze of guitars feel full-blooded and messy in a way the National has avoided for a long, long time.

On the whole, American Saturday Night is one of his dreamier albums, filled with swaying slow dances, sweet love tunes, and the occasional brokenhearted blues, all delivered with a worn-in ease.

If Dark Dark Dark are one of many acts who seem to define the realm of vaguely quirky and slightly winsome indie rock of the 21st century, the lean of the performances tends toward the quietly contemplative above all else, however much in a band context.

Meliora jumps so quickly from classic hard rock to prog to glam metal it can be dizzying (and perhaps even dazzling) for listeners. What holds it all together is solid writing that sticks close to stock pop/rock methodology.

Sheff's willingness to strike a balance between his roots rock past and his personal past should please longtime fans and newbies alike, even if they spend the majority of the ride wondering why the tour bus never actually stops at the Silver Gymnasium.

This wasn't the kind of record that lights up the charts--which could account for the reason it didn't appear on the shelves in late April 2002, as expected, and only earned an official release in 2009--but in many ways it's superior to the released Amplified.

These are the album's best songs, but the rest are good, too, and the whole is a worthy addition to the ever-growing catalog of sly Texas country-rock.

Sun lives up to its name, but its album cover is more revealing: like the rainbow crossing Marshall's face, these songs are the meeting point between a stormy past and optimism for the future.

Besides being an impressive melding of unlikely worlds, the five pieces here are transcendently beautiful, and essential listening for a fan of either player or any sound art enthusiast.

On Terms of my Surrender, Hiatt has the blues, and he's got the goods, and this is another solid chapter in a recording career that's drifted into an unexpected but pleasing renaissance.

Hunter is an enigmatic presence, and even with the all of the new trimmings, her rich alto always rises to the forefront, carefully shepherding in the band's newfound sonic might with equal parts audacity and vulnerability.

Swimming is ample evidence that Miller can pick up the pieces and continue evolving, his grasp on thoughtful, introspective hip-hop getting stronger by the album.

The songs that make up Sremm4Life are lean, purposeful, and to the point.

At its heart, it's nothing more than the Rolling Stones knocking out some good Rolling Stones songs, which seems like a minor miracle after such a long wait.

A welcome return, Ladytron is a remarkably consistent and engaging album that befits the band's status as synth pop veterans.

The use of production and electronic treatment amplifies almost all of the tracks here, creating interesting pockets of unexpected tension and menace in what would have otherwise stood as somewhat straightforward compositions.

Brightly Painted One sounds more like a loving tribute to a simpler, slower time and once decanted, the songs begin to take on a personality of their own.