It's easily the meatiest the band has sounded to date, but it doesn't deviate from the punishing, aural miasma that Pissed Jeans have been stewing in since their 2006 debut.

While The Social Network may not be as iconic as the Dust Brothers' score for Fincher's Fight Club, it's as impressive and listenable in its own way. Reznor fans and film score aficionados will find a lot to like here.

This open-minded vision was already quite evident on prior Ihsahn solo albums, of course, but on Eremita it arguably flowers more confidently than ever before.

The album's middle third is exceptional, where Moiré's output once again draws from Parrish, Lawrence, and also Moodymann with raw, almost jacking beats, sustained high-pitch strings (either sampled or synthetic), and entrancing, downcast melodies.

Weirdon feels more lighthearted than its predecessor, offering just as many aggressive guitar freakouts and blasts of antagonistic noise, but handing them over this time with a smirk instead of a scowl.

Touching on Hot Chip 's classic themes and sounds as much as it does, Freakout/Release isn't an entirely clean slate, but it does offer some fresh perspectives on their music along with one of their strongest batches of songs in some time.

Ultimately, Levi's score is as powerful a presence as Jackie herself, and its creativity is more appropriate than more traditional music would have been.

Ashore is the product of decades of musical maturation and technical refinement, and is an unalloyed triumph.

Politically charged punk rock can be an exhausting and overtly self-righteous affair in the wrong hands, but Oberst and company temper their outrage with unadulterated melodic might, resulting in that rare protest album that rewards both the condemners and the condemned.

Intensely focused and steady.

Listeners attached to Aguayo's comparatively spindly early-2000s work will hear much of this as cracked chaos, but the level of carefree delight brimming throughout has to be, at the very least, admired.

Rave Tapes takes a while to hit its stride, but it delivers plenty of moments to keep fans intrigued once it does.

Numerous proven mixtapes help set Ty up for an easier introduction than most, but Free TC tops all expectations, as the man conquers the club, the bedroom, and the brain with this end-to-end stunner.

While there is much good music here, there isn't much that adds to Nirvana's legacy, nor is there much that's revelatory.

Something is a different beast: wilder than its predecessor, stronger in the songwriting department, and totally, wonderfully weird.

With songs like this, Trouble in Paradise proves Jackson is still better than many of her contemporaries when it comes to making fizzy electro-pop.

The melodies remain fuzzily in focus, so Ashes & Fire winds up as ever-shifting mood music, sustaining an appealingly lazy haze residing somewhere south of melancholy.

One can't help but wish the 15-track set list included more numbers like 'Frankie's Gun,' which features some of Ian's wittiest lyrics and the brothers' spot-on imitation of the Band, but it's hard to find fault in this collection of earthy ballads and barroom jams.

It's an ambitious album that finds Miller really stretching himself as a songwriter, but it's hard not to wish there were more songs like the nervy 'If It's Not Love' on board to help the medicine go down.

Even though the album may be enough of a stretch that it could chase away many of the band's fans, if you give it a chance, Memoirs at the End of the World is a completely successful melding of the Postmarks' autumnal sweetness with the elevated drama and epic nature of film scores.

A study in how to be settled without settling, this album is a very welcome return.

SBTRKT's downtempo, mellow nature means it's a dance album that's unlikely to ever be played in a club, but showing James Blake that sparse, minimal dubstep and well-crafted pop melodies aren't mutually exclusive, it's a daring debut which lives up to the masked man's "next big thing" label.

I Know What Love Isn't is Lekman at his finest, transmitting real emotion and humor in songs that are impossible to stop humming for days.

As far as the argument over whether Death Grips are indie rap's great, destructive Dada Art crew or whether they are just the genre's Spinal Tap, the excellent No Love Deep Web suggests they're the sophisticated former.

Anyone who enjoys their pop with extra wry and some sobering awareness should love What Have We Become?, but it's the Beautiful South faithful who will rightfully gush over the release, as these antiheroes have lost none of their touch or fatalistic flair.

It's a bit of a mess at times, but there's no denying that Crying's sense of fun is a major part of their appeal.

As with other Mayer studio full-lengths (including the SuperMayer release), & has an anything-goes spirit, jumping from style to style and resisting expectations. It flows well as an album, though, starting out celebratory before getting darker and more sinister and finally ending up sublime and relaxed.

At 33 minutes, the album is an intense but abrupt ride, with both musicians soaring into bold new territories. For dedicated fans who couldn't get enough, pre-orders of the album were bundled with a bonus disc containing eight additional tracks from the same sessions, which are just as mindblowing as the album proper, if not more so.