Belladonna was welcomed back into the fold, and all the vocals were re-recorded. But to Anthrax's credit, it all fits together seamlessly, resulting in arguably their finest studio album since, well, the last one that Belladonna sang on!

The naked emotion expressed here doesn't exactly make for an easy listening experience, but it's a brave, welcome, and perhaps even necessary one.

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

Tipping closer to dance-pop than noise-rock, Deleter is one of Holy Fuck's most finely tuned albums, yet the band sound as spontaneous as ever.

While this doesn't carry the weight of an "historic" recording, it is thoroughly enjoyable. Harris is in better voice than she's been in years and Crowell is a natural as a duet partner.

Although at times they come close to overshadowing the subtle instrumentation provided by Major and Dan Rothman, it’s actually the intrinsic balance between the contributions of all three that defines their sound.

When Elbogen adds some additional keyboards to the mix, Um, Uh Oh feels downright colorful. And the songs themselves boast a level of craftsmanship and quality that's striking for somebody whose last batch of tunes was released less than two years earlier.

WhoMadeWho have been accomplished, even inspired, in the past, but here they emerge on a whole new level, displaying a subtle command of tension and release and an assured, seamless blending of rock and electronics, suffused with unfeigned emotionalism, which calls to mind the confidence and mastery of marquee acts like LCD Soundsystem and Radiohead.

Few current bluegrass acts sing with the command and authority Lauderdale brings to his performances, and fewer still have a set of songs at their disposal as good as what Lauderdale and Hunter have composed for Reason and Rhyme, and it's another impressive installment in what's becoming one of the most interesting partnerships in roots music today.

Within Ward's canon, More Rain may not work overtime to distinguish itself, but like nearly all of his releases, it's a companionable listen with a lot of craft hidden under its layers.

It's a rare kind of unobstructed window into a songwriter's world, but the magic of One Hand on the Steering Wheel is how Levy somehow manages to speak volumes without giving too much away.

It's exhilarating, the best rock & roll record yet released in 2007.

He makes his tracks entertaining, but he occasionally falls prey to a common trap -- educating the listeners but not enlightening them.

The result is part retro, part avant-garde, and part polyrhythmic elevator music, which is to say it sounds wholly Dungen.

This album should be heard as such in a single sitting, where its labyrinthine beauty can be fully experienced and integrated. This is "acid rock" at its best.

At times, Lucid Dreaming can get a little too hazy and downbeat for its own good, but as a portrait of a duo in motion, it suggests Say Lou Lou are heading in the right direction.

While Kozelek remains an incredible storyteller, and the album is fascinating as ever to his faithful followers, it's likely to be exhausting, infuriating, or simply head-scratching to anyone who isn't already a fan of his. And as wonderful as Broadrick's musical contributions are, they recede into the background and aren't nearly as distinctive as his own work.

Alice is a major step forward for Meatbodies and one of the better garage punk/heavy metal/psychedelic rock albums anyone is likely to hear in 2017.

They never clear the chateau dancefloor, and they add flashes of '80s synths on tracks like "Don't Change," video game music on "Kiki, You Complete Me," glockenspiel and fluttery effects on the mysterious "It's About Time," and a sense of urgency on the fiery "La Bomba." It all makes for a good time for all while at the same time offering to recede nicely into a groove-heavy background as needed.

Throughout the album the sense is of rough experimentation, a kind of direct curiosity in the collision of sampled loops, echoed vocals, bursting bass, and random moments. Stallone's echoed vocals, however much a stylistic commonality in some corners, act as further random hooks, a slightly stupefied but never incoherent series of reactions.

It is a snapshot of where Gilmour is as a musician in 2015, and not by any means a grand portrait or statement to sum up his career.

At times, his contemplation gets a little too meandering, and some songs fall on the wrong side of the fine line between anthemic and clichéd. Nevertheless, The Soft Cavalry is a promising debut that's held together by the emotional commitment Clarke and Goswell bring to each of its songs.

On this consistently hypnotic debut, Austra carve out a place of their own among their contemporaries.

Given the fact that the Dead Weather formed on a whim and recorded these songs in a matter of weeks, Horehound is a compelling album, and one that shows that the band's members bring out the best in each other, albeit in unexpected ways.

Arguably heavy-handed but regrettably timely, even if allegorical, After You marks an ambitious return for the long-absent musician, one that ultimately rewards with musicality.

Hawk isn't as startling [as Ballad of the Broken Seas], but it's encouraging to know that the magic between Campbell and Lanegan not only hasn't worn off, it's manifesting itself in new and compelling ways.

My Soft Machine hits differently than Collapsed in Sunbeams, but it's still a powerful effort that packs more emotional weight while expanding the singer/songwriter's stylistic range.

With each album, the Cribs have gotten a little sharper and more focused, and nowhere is this clearer than on the brilliantly named Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever, the band's major-label debut.