Ultimately, it's this kind of life-is-short pop energy, imbued with Murphy's well-curated sense of time and place, that helps elevate the Wombats' Glitterbug from just a one-crazy-night soundtrack to an album that might stick with you for years to come.

It's the group's most lived in and emotionally authentic sounding release to date; it certainly doesn't fiddle too much with the formula, but that's hardly a negative.

You don't have to care about wrestling to be knocked out by Beat the Champ, but Darnielle makes it clear that these stories mean something real to him, and this is a fascinating portrait not of who wins or loses, but those who play the game.

The resulting album successfully fleshes out Shlohmo's previous sound into his most accomplished work so far, and ultimately manages to find hope in darkness.

More atmospheric than their regional contemporaries Baroness, but just as keen on opening up the blast furnace doors when an exclamation point is needed, Royal Thunder spend much of Crooked Doors skillfully dancing around the almighty power ballad (the Nazareth radio standard mentioned earlier looms large throughout), but not truly succumbing until the very end.

The Ruffian's Misfortune shows the man is doing some of the very best work of his career 40 years on, and anyone who cares about American roots music in any form would do themselves a favor by adding this set to their collection.

There are no big surprises here; fans of Lonesome Dreams will surely be pleased, and Strange Trails' serene ambience and unconventional narrative may capture the imagination of inclined first-timers.

Though it's a stretch to call it a happy album (from an artist who routinely pondered the dark side of his life), it's full of charm, wit, and guarded optimism as Rouse tells us a bit about his demons with an honesty that suggests some, if not all, of them are in his rear view mirror. If only therapy was this effective and entertaining for everyone.

Gallows are certainly not getting any happier, but they've got torment down to a science.

As a whole, Culture of Volume is an intense and fascinating album, one that leaves sequel-like anticipation for what else East India Youth may have in store.

While their debut acted more as a fairly straightforward (and cleanly captured) document of Drenge's live sound, Undertow's cohesion comes from its intentionally murky tone which provides just right home for their (mostly) controlled fury.

As pleasant as the album is, this time it feels like Calexico are just passing through.

Ultimately, with Future Hearts, All Time Low have delivered an almost perfect blend of stadium-ready fist pumpers, ballads, and fuel-injected pop hits.

Spacy yet grounded, cosmic yet physical, Insides is a satisfying journey and Fort Romeau's finest music yet.

It's perched at a point between the past and the present, protest and satire, and that inscrutability is often where Rundgren does interesting work.

The entire album has a general lack of excitement that could be Matt and Kim mailing it in, or taking one step too far toward the pop mainstream and losing the punkish edge that made their music pop like bubbles in a bottle of shaken-up soda.

While The Air Conditioned Nightmare represents growth for Doldrums, the caustic and sometimes overwhelming directions the album goes in are more difficult to unravel than the often blissful landscapes laid out in earlier songs. That said, deeper digging reveals Woodhead taking hold of the confusion, conflict, and ugliness of the record and sculpting it into something compelling in a voice all his own.

No Pier Pressure seems genuinely weird, as it's perilously perched between the best and worst of Wilson's pop talent and Thomas' showbiz instincts.

Grass, Branch & Bone is a low-key triumph from an artist who had made a career out of demonstrating that in music, simplicity is often the approach that tells us the most.

While not truly a debut, since Jalbert has been around awhile, Cosmic Troubles does herald the arrival of a band doing psych pop in an idiosyncratically unique way, something that any scene, and especially a scene as crowded as this one, desperately needs.

While, depending on perspective, the album's a bit shallow on dignity, it goes a long way on atmosphere and seductive, despairing style.

Radium Death finds Whitmore at his songwriting and singing best. That said, his successful indulgence in rock & roll's various forms makes one wish he had just put the entire album on stun.

Same as You bears a less forceful signature than previous Polar Bear offerings, but it is also their most musically satisfying album.

Whether singing new or old songs, he presents them in the moment as living, breathing entities. He remains a song interpreter who has few--if any--peers.

New York Before the War isn't quite a full-on rock & roll album, but it comes close enough that Malin has more space to move around than on his more subdued solo works, and he sounds energized and eloquent on these 13 tunes.

The Björk-based art piece works better when consumed as album number two.

Add the way "Roadblox" provides the cinematic side of Prodigy that's often overlooked and the album seems a triumph, but lead single "Nasty" is a lesser "Firestarter" and at 14 cuts, this chunky effort is built for returning fan club members and not the EP-craving EDM crowd.

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.