Faster may piss off blues purists, but that's their problem. Fish uses the genre aptly in these well-crafted songs; she extends their reach to dance with sophisticated modern pop that in turn gleefully meets her brand of unruly rockin' blues.

The unexpected touches, such as Glasper's own drunk-funk drums on "Shine" and the Theo Parrish-like beatdown house gait of "Everybody Love" (featuring Musiq Soulchild and Posdnous), are as welcome as the familiar ones.

Alienating and cathartic at once, Island Family ends on the collage-like tech satire "Remote Control" for a shared cabin fever experience.

Adding to an already impressive list of achievements, HAAi's first full-length is a stunner.

Down Tools shows Mush can smooth down their surfaces a bit and still sound challenging and subversively witty, and as long as they do, they'll be worth hearing.

Art Moore's ten meticulously sculpted tracks balance sadness and hope, softening the blow of Vick's lyrical gut-punches with glistening sonics and gentle musical counterpoint.

Direction of the Heart is an album by a band that still has something to prove. They deliver big. Without forsaking their core sound, they offer listeners energized, anthemic, poignant, electro-charged rock & roll.

Fields sings everything with the expected high level of conviction, covering nearly the gamut of blue-collar soul subjects with devotion and heartache at the fore. His performances elevate the material when it's merely functional.

Less serious-feeling moments like "Zombie World" and "This Isn't Funny" call back to the juvenile spirit of early Half Japanese, but the majority of Jump into Love finds Fair and his band communicating messages of joy and promise with strangely heavy tunes that don't quite sonically match their optimistic sentiments.

As the creator and master of his own distinctive palette, he delivers another nuanced and well-crafted album.

Club Romantech flows like a well-curated DJ set, and by imagining the club night of their dreams, Icona Pop prove they've still got EDM-pop down to an art.

Alex Izenberg & the Exiles is an album for late nights, back porches, and lonely weekends, and another intriguing entry in the growing catalog of a distinctive music personality.

The editing and sequencing on Downstate are more a part of the listening experience here than on the previous album, with quick transitions, trippy fades, and unexpected pitch changes all adding weirdness to an already warped set of jams.

It's an engaging sound adjustment for the band that's unlikely to leave many fans of their label debut behind.

While the Morrissey comparisons are inevitable this time around, Brigitte Calls Me Baby put their own soaring, lovesick twist on influences here, resulting in a dramatic sound all their own.

An album that begins as a one-woman cabaret show discussing humanity's past and future and remains the work of a singular voice, one that recognizes that silence is just as vital as music.

Elastic Days is another example of the strength and confidence he's gained from turning down the volume.

This is the least polished and crafted recording of Rickie Lee Jones' career, and it stands alone in her catalog. It's a ragged kid in ripped blue jeans singing her heart out to you without drama or falsity. How can it be anything less than a masterpiece?

Drifters/Love Is the Devil spans nearly every sound in Dirty Beaches' musical spectrum to make another strongly evocative album in Hungtai's body of work.

It's an incredible feat for an artist to make something so enormous and unfolding without losing himself in the process, but McGuire has done just that, and as a result has turned in his most detailed and soul-searching work.

Every track on this album is excellent in its own way.

It's Goldfrapp's most sophisticated work to date, and one of their most consistently satisfying albums.

Easily his most accessible material, there's still a lot of uncomfortable emotional and sonic wreckage to sift through. Peeling back the layers of grime and giving listeners a chance to sift through it for themselves makes I Have to Feed Larry's Hawk feel like a debut from this already storied songwriter.

As disorienting as Future Teenage Cave Artists gets, it packs a potent emotional wallop.

A manifesto that only Deerhoof could create, Actually, You Can is a perfect example of how they achieve what seems like the impossible time and time again -- and with its heroic doses of fun and optimism, it reminds listeners that actually, they can too.

Tribute To remains reverent despite those unique touches, however, and Jim James (or Yim Yames, or whatever he's calling himself nowadays) sounds fairly fantastic throughout.

For Holy Fuck, Latin is a monumental step forward. By trimming back the choppy art-house disjointedness and quirky Casio tones, the band has successfully evolved their sound into something much more provocative, heavy duty, and rewarding.

On the whole a solid set of songs, the album's influences play out consistently across a wistfully romantic atmosphere that should appeal to both lovers and the lonelyhearted.