Ultimately, with Alix, Generationals deliver quirky, catchy pop songs that stick in your head like DayGlo bubblegum on a hot summer parking lot.

Below the Pink Pony doesn't always carve out a signature sound for the Fauntleroys, but there's a whole lot of talent in this band and they know how to make room for one another; hopefully there will be a full-length Fauntleroys album that will allow them to build on the impressive work they put in on this quick, dirty, and rewarding debut.

A Minus the Bear record is fairly consistent, but given the quality of this band's output and the uniqueness of their sound, it comes as no surprise that not only are their cast-offs pretty solid, but that make for an oddly good album when strung together.

Human Voice represents an artist's drive to push his work forward, but also retains the signature relationship with melody and emotional presentation that have always set Dntel apart from the rest.

With Hold My Home, they emerge as a more straightforward band, and also a more confident and engaging one.

Nude Beach were already a better-than-average garage punk combo on their first two long-players, but they're growing into something more on 77, and it's smart, well-crafted stuff that could possibly move them to bigger and/or better things.

Ultimately, what is so great about this release is how well Mariachi El Bronx balance their love of traditional mariachi music with their desire to write utterly catchy, contemporary pop songs.

Blood In, Blood Out, much like Cannibal Corpse's 2014 offering Skeletal Domain, sounds remarkably dialed-in for a band so long in the tooth, and while it doesn't break any new ground for the stalwart rockers, it certainly does little to tarnish their reputation as thrash royalty.

Devilish and delicious, the album can be precious to a fault, as following all the Queen-sized arrangements and all the Adam Lambert-esque sass isn't an everyday thing for most.

The band sounds vital and energetic, and while there's still a hint of sour grapes to be heard, all in all the album feels like a return to the basics.

Where the band's last effort was rooted in their past, Last Act of Defiance has its feet firmly planted in the present with a message that feels both important and timely, making for a solid album that shows Sick of It All aren't just going through the motions.

Chamberlain sounds like he's exorcizing some demons with Sleepwave, and he's doing so in the style that comforts him the most.

Despite a few bright moments, Motion is disappointingly bland--especially since Harris has made plenty of memorable electro-pop before and after his EDM makeover.

Mysterious and riveting, Rhythm is one of the most stunning distillations of Wildbirds & Peacedrums' powers yet.

The way Arca plays with and decorates time, letting sounds and moods mutate spontaneously, makes Xen a complete picture of his artistry and also promises much more.

It may not displace Toro y Moi as Bundick's most satisfying project, but as an outlet for his dance music urges, Les Sins works very well.

The smaller Guggenheim portion, served up in smaller doses, decreases the tension only slightly on Clark's most exhilarating work yet.

While Ruins' sound is stripped-down, it's filled with emotional magnitudes. Harris' confessions are that much more devastating thanks to their almost overheard nature, and her whispered vocals mean her audience has to listen to them as closely as possible.

Even on these songs, it feels more like Deerhoof are coming full circle than looking back; that they've been able to put different but cohesive spins on their sound so well, and for so long, is truly remarkable.

By delivering this big, sloppy valentine to everything he is and everything he loves, he's not being neat but he is true to himself.

These sly revisions gave the 1975 album a slight veneer that's been stripped away by this unfussy, startlingly clear remastering, but the big difference is that the chronological sequence on The Basement Tapes Complete gives the set a narrative.

Ultimately, while Bass Drum of Death's reach never exceeds their grasp--there's no MC5-style ersatz free jazz, let alone a guitar solo to be found here--Rip This nonetheless grabs your ears like a drunken biker in a bar fight, letting go long enough for you to pick yourself off the floor just in time to get pummeled again.

A large portion of Black Metal resembles the kind of lo-fi, quantity-over-quality, solitary works of eccentrics who would have been at home in the mid- to late '80s on labels like Factory Benelux, Creation, or, well, Rough Trade.

Sense of purpose gets eclipsed by sense of self on If There's a Hell Below, but Black Milk deserves to ride the vibe of his previous work more than most. Consider this a returning fan's album, and then go about becoming one.

Third album Lifer continues that album’s gnarled tendencies, offering up blurry washes of ghastly rock that have more in common with '90s metal-leaning grunge acts than the sometimes artsy punk undercurrents that wander in and out of Dope Body's sound.

It's a stellar record, one that captivates both the heart and the imagination with an almost imperceptible grip, clutching the listener's attention with its painstakingly beautiful construction and a sadness that is all-consuming but somehow warm and comforting.

This kind of work doesn't make for an album which one is inclined to return to for repeated listening.

Once again, they have succeeded and prove that they aren't just an oldies act; they are at the forefront of the modern shoegaze/noise pop scene.