An extension of their ever-evolving canon, The Sovereign Self is possibly Trembling Bells' most colorful journey yet, with a wayfaring rock & roll spirit and a madcap zeal that keep it sounding fresh.

It's the sound of someone coming out the other side of personal upheaval, and even if there are a few missteps, Williams connects in a very human way, providing plenty of allure for an album that feels very much like a debut.

While the lyrics still bristle with discontent, they're less defiant and more concerned with the journey than they are the inevitable descent/ascent to oblivion.

That the band never lose themselves in the process of these myriad digressions is impressive to say the least, but what's most notable about Found in Far Away Places is how fluid the ride is.

All of Container's recordings are amazing, but this one is his most concentrated burst of energy yet, and it cements his status as one of the most exciting and inventive artists in the underground American electronic music scene, as well as one of the most successful in merging noise with techno.

Call Me Insane shows the honky tonk man can still write 'em and sing 'em as well as you could hope, and he's not slowing down a quarter-century into his career.

This possible soundtrack takes a more abstract route while offering the same love and reverence, and it's also an almost-solo album from Lauryn Hill, the driving force behind six of the album's 16 tracks.

Engaging songwriting, with lyrics mostly of the love variety here, also anchor her solidly in worthwhile territory--Work It Out is far from a sellout-type effort.

Ultimately, Years & Years are so passionately in touch with their influences, they've transformed them into something new and full of the light.

Ghost Notes is their most consistent--and consistently enjoyable--album yet.

Ultimately, Working Girl plays like Little Boots' own biopic, a cinematic feminist synth-pop manifesto set to a pulsing Giorgio Moroder-esque soundtrack.

This isn't among the most substantive Four Tet albums, but it does reward repeated casual listening.

Low on drama but high on seemingly effortless jangle pop brilliance, Calling Out feels like a long-lost classic and an exciting discovery.

If you're willing to get on board with Ezra Furman and the beautifully messy world that he celebrates here, Perpetual Motion People is a ride worth taking.

Like the films Superman 2 and Aliens, the concept LP Twelve Reasons to Die II meets, and for action junkies exceeds, the high standard set by its predecessor.

If How Far Will You Go is hit-and-miss as music, it's a remarkable document of a forgotten musical detour on the way to the sexual revolution, utterly fearless and not much like anything else of its era.

Ultimately, Between the Buried & Me, despite employing many tropes and influences, come off sounding like no one but themselves.

Best Friends have arrived fully formed on their debut, ready to take their place among the best practitioners of noisy garagey pop around.

Unpredictable and ruthlessly abstract, Pattern of Excel is possibly the most avant-garde release in Ninja Tune's long history, and may seem like a stark departure from Lee Bannon's earlier works, but it's really just a continuation of his tendency to follow his fearlessly creative spirit into uncharted territory.

Even with its relatively brief running time (44 minutes), Atheist's Cornea is an exhausting, exhilarating listen.

The album offers a fresh perspective on minimal techno, keeping things energetic and more than a little bit apprehensive.

The album works more as a selection of striking individual pieces than a coherent whole; there are moments of brilliance here, but they're inconsistent, and the album has more than its share of false endings that muddle the pacing.

Hammer of the Witches doesn't reach the heights of Dusk of Her Embrace, but it does offer proof that there is plenty of fire and creativity left in Cradle of Filth.

Among scads of other bands that specialized in hectoring vocals, droning basslines, battering drums, and scraping guitars, In Camera weren't all that distinctive, but they created quite a racket.

Dark Matter/Dark Energy is a potent reminder that Robb and his collaborators are still finding their way into the heart of darkness (which isn't too far from their hometown), and sending back compelling reports of what they've seen and heard.

Established fans will likely welcome the new developments; it's not a shift in style so much as in attitude, and her relatable introspection is in full force, just at a different stage--still searching but looking toward the light.

Portraits establishes Maribou State as an intriguing pair of sonic architects, capable of crafting intricate but not cluttered, blue but not depressing, emotive electronic pop music.

McAlinden knows how to wrap sadness, joy, heartache, and nostalgia into simple box with a ray of sunshine for a bow. Rest and be thankful, indeed.