Two Wounded Birds is a well-crafted and powerful debut from a band that arrived in full control of both its sound and its songs.

It's chock-full seductive, attractive melodies and sweet singing, but its lyrics are searing enough in their emotional and spiritual honesty, that they cut to the bone. Great.

Far from seeming aimless, the spaciness is controlled: guitars and bass build to occasional crescendos that then fall back to earth, and the prolonged periods of murmuring electronics do not lack texture or tension. It's this almost cinematic pacing that gives IN///PARALLEL its unique appeal.

Oldham's brand of folk music is certainly old enough and weird enough, but there are noticeably fewer moments of beauty and fewer lyrical revelations than on his best material.

The EP is fine, by all means, but it's definitely not the Aphex release to reach for if you're expecting to be challenged or blown away by something utterly unique or exciting.

At times, Dream of Delphi's soothing yet awestruck moods play more like a soundtrack than a set of songs, but those who savor Khan's powers of expression as much as her art pop savvy will find a lot to love here.

While it's hardly the stark, across-the-board tonal sea change suggested by several of its most immediately ear-catching cuts, And Then We Saw Land is at once an adventurous outward journey and an invitingly familiar return from an always intriguing, intrepid, and under-heralded band.

is still the same Perkins who turned misery into moving music several years ago, but he's learned to dress up those sentiments in engaging Americana attire, a move that softens the blow but rarely cheapens the art.

No Shame isn't a soundtrack to party. It's music for reflection, and coming from an artist who made snark her specialty, that's a step forward.

Their sound will never grow tiresome; it only gets better with repeated use.

Texture is ultimately the dominant force on the album, no matter the volume or source, and hearing how the possibilities are explored song for song within the context of contemplation and hunkering down against a kind of impending threat can be very rewarding.

Little Heater is a lovely, evocative album that touches the heart, the soul, and the intellect with equal force; this is the work of a singular artist working at the top of her game and it demands to be heard.

In the end, the street-worthy effort seems more influenced by Maybach Music than Minaj, as it forsakes the paparazzi and gossip pages for the better and continues on the path first laid out on the man's mixtapes.

It's a trivial if fun diversion.

Toy doesn't sound especially innovative, but it certainly demonstrates that Yello haven't been resting on their laurels, and at its best, the album applies new thinking in electronic pop with the melodic and production approaches that have always been part of Yello's music, for a set that's fresh but unmistakably their work.

Thomas' atmospheric pieces are just as compelling as his songwriting, however, and anyone intrigued by these tracks should check out some of his many extracurricular projects, particularly the dark, jazzy free-form explorations of Billowing and the Krautrock-inspired instrumental pop group Hydropark.

III is much more concise than other Lindstrøm & Prins Thomas albums, but it still reaches toward the outer limits the way that only their work can.

Tess Parks' simmering vocals on the title track drive home the range of Korody's colorful vision, simultaneously offering up a reimagination of Manchester's swirling '90s peak, while at the same time feeling futuristic and unfamiliar.

The highlights are many, but "Black Flag Freestyle" with That Mexican OT sounds like a direct homage to Memphis greats Three 6ix Mafia.

This is by far their most accessible and cohesive record yet, and despite a couple of well-meaning but ultimately derivative hiccups in its second half, Awoo should bring a much larger audience into the fold.

Mouse on Mars sound only like themselves on Parastrophics, an album that's a rebirth and a welcome return for one of electronic music's most restlessly creative acts.

Durvitz's raspy voice and lucid, lyrical stories always hold just a hint of desperation, and even decades into a staggered career, these new tunes can’t help but feel like part of a larger narrative that began during the band’s '90s glory days but finds further, greater refinement here.

Perhaps Ghost on the Canvas doesn't revisit every high in Campbell's history, but it pays honor to his legacy and feels like an appropriate and subtly moving farewell.

Crush is a fully realized progression, and one of the best indie rock albums you'll hear in 2010.

Though the album contains plenty of odd twists and turns, there's enough of the old Melvins to keep things from straying too far from home, offering more than a few comforting oases for listeners to refresh themselves before they head out to explore some of Hold It In's weirder moments.

Fortunately, he hasn't matured out of his core strengths: his vitality, his expressiveness, and his knack for twisting the vagaries of everyday life for urban youth into material for songs.

The duo can still cast a mood, and that's what makes this debut all the more frustrating -- all the parts are here, but they don't come together as often as they could and should.

You've almost certainly heard other acts do what Shovels & Rope do on Swimmin' Time plenty of times; the difference is, this duo can do it better than most, and that's enough to keep them going until they're capable of developing a more unique personality to call their own.