Every bit as excellent as their previous two full-lengths, Venus in Leo is HTRK's most sensuous material yet, and the type of album that provokes repeated, enraptured listens.

Punk is relatively odd for an album that debuted at number one on the charts, sneaking some of Young Thug's inherent eccentricity in among its more commercially viable moments.

Every element is in the right place but Watt is smart enough to leave some elements undone, giving the album a human heart that's evident no matter how deliberate the entire affair may be.

Throughout the album, Allison's vulnerable delivery and quietly tormented lyrics stick as much as hooks, artfully gradated guitar tones, and haunting echo that's mostly reserved for accompaniment, but they all work together in unsettled harmony.

Call the Comet is more accomplished than compelling, but there is pleasure in hearing how all the parts fit together so tidily.

A tight, mean set of songs.

The Oranges Band doesn't rewrite the indie rock handbook; more like they follow it in note-perfect style and form and in such a familiar way (Spoon, New Pornographers, Guided by Voices, Yo La Tengo, new wave influence, etc.) that your initial inclination might be to dismiss them as generic wannabes. Stick around though and you just might be won over.

Like the best divorce albums, it offers sadness, pathos, and the electric thrill of great music forged in the crucible of pain.

While the album's roots are deeply embedded in the past, the band has never sounded more present tense.

Wasted Shirt is a collaborative project in the best sense, as the strengths of both Segall and Chippendale are at the forefront on Fungus II, and if this album is less accessible than most of Segall's recent releases, it has excitement and daring to spare.

Whether it's a genuine transformation or just a brief exercise for the pop chameleon, the triumphant Holy Fvck is a refreshing change of pace and an utter thrill to experience for those willing to look past the headlines into the heart of an artist who continues to grow in the public eye.

Whatever the reason, it's a great-sounding record.

Metallica is still vitally violent and on this terrific album--a de facto comeback, even if they never have really went away--they're finally acting like they enjoy being a great rock band.

Genuine Negro Jig is perfectly recorded, balanced between the best sound this century can deliver and the rustic, throwback feel of an old-time string band in action at a picnic, dance or rent party in the '30s. That’s the accomplishment here.

It's messy, but it sure is pretty.

An exciting debut, Sleeper is a rawer, deeper album than might have been expected, full of music that's more daring and more rewarding than the work of many artists without the baggage attached to Villain's background.

Nuanced, dark, funny, harrowing, but also amiable, Mark Kozelek and Desertshore is one of the more digestible and entertaining documents of what could stand as the most prolific writing period of Kozelek's already inspired career.

Compared to the self-titled debut and Overgrown, this a more graceful and denser purging, one that can soundtrack some intense wallowing or, at a low volume, throb and murmur unobtrusively in the background.

The final two tracks are a well-deserved comedown from a truly thrilling, energetic sequence.

It's in the album's unlikely combination of weighty sentiments and cheerful (if especially diverse) sounds that Belle and Sebastian grow, offering up an honest assessment of what getting older feels like when you're one of the world's best indie pop bands.

On the whole, Interplay is interesting but inconsistent, landing more like a collection of ideas being fleshed out than a cohesive album experience. Ultimately, it's commendable that Ride continue to reach beyond their past, but the best moments of Interplay are the ones that remind the listener what made the band so unique to begin with.

Here We Go Magic move between more full-on hyperactivity in that vein from songs like "Make Up Your Mind" and "I Believe in Action" to the easier-going grooves of "Alone But Moving," but too often they don't do much with that.

Sucker Punch is a masterful debut from a promising talent unafraid to just be herself.

A fairly brilliant expansion of his debut, turning his spare, menacing hip-hop into a hyper-surreal, wittily disturbing thrill ride.

The album as a whole clearly values the arrangements and overall instrumental performances perhaps even more than the singing, with numerous extended codas and breaks where the performers stretch out to the full.

The album's length is just about right, going by in an efficient 36 minutes but feeling satisfying at the end, and while fans are bound to pick favorites, there's not a real dud in the bunch.

This wonderfully demonstrates Jackmaster's flair for surprising selections while keeping the mix focused on moving the crowd.

Hard Light is far from Delaware's rollercoaster ride, but its update of that album's spirit should please the fans Drop Nineteens made in the decades since their debut.