If Big Day in a Small Town occasionally feels like nothing more than a collection of great songs that don't quite gel into a larger picture, that's a minor complaint: songs rarely come much better than these.

A visceral work that shares the immediacy of classic punk and confessional singer/songwriter fare at once, Puberty 2 takes listeners behind closed doors with the kind of no-holds-barred lyrics that are likely to leave a lasting impression.

While the album is not as fluid as BLACKsummers'night and has a couple frayed ends, it includes a high quantity of open-hearted ballads and variable-tempo jams that sparkle with indisputable power. Each one is supremely sculpted. Their decreased vocal smoothness and increased rhythmic friction are major factors in the set's allure.

Taking Craig's already distinctive, powerful sound to extremes, Centres is another truly remarkable work.

It shocks by sounding as vital as Dinosaur Jr. ever has. Deciding to not to build upon the expansive textures of I Bet on Sky, the trio nevertheless sounds vividly oversaturated throughout Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not.

On the whole, the music on A Place Called Bad makes a strong case that the Scientists were one of the '80s best bands, especially during their swamp noise years. They had the look, they had the songs, they had the sound, and everything they did burned with the white hot fire that only the very best groups are able to harness.

While the show itself is clear about its influences, its soundtrack manages to do this too, while ultimately culminating as an in-depth and invigorating piece of atmospheric electronic music.

Here is a ruminative, inward-looking album of folk-inflected beauty.

Devastating yet optimistic, Splendor & Misery is a stunning leap forward for clipping., and one of the most impressive albums of the year.

The 2016 triple-disc set The Complete BBC Sessions adds those songs as a third disc to a remastered version of the original 1997 compilation, an addition that doesn't greatly alter the overall picture of Zeppelin's BBC Sessions but offers a whole lot of additional value. Without those sessions, the compilation remains a stellar showcase of Led Zeppelin in ascendancy but with them the portrait deepens.

With We're All Gonna Die, Dawes have crafted an album rife with riddles and musical poetry, whose meaning may take a few listens to completely grab you. However, when it does finally hit you, it's hard to shake the feeling that Dawes have opened a door into the cosmos.

Ultimately, by celebrating those life experiences on Big Mess, Grouplove have crafted an ecstatic, joyful album.

The distance between Diamond Dogs and Station to Station is vast, and the addition of the live albums accentuates how deeply he cared for strong, deeply etched funk to offset his art. Listening to all this music in a concentrated blast, such progression is a wonder to behold.

Atrocity Exhibition is Danny Brown at his least diluted, almost unrelentingly grim and completely engrossing.

Yellowcard never feels treacly or forced. It's emo for grownups and a proper close for a band that wanted to go out on its own terms.

Blue Mountain is very much an extension of his work with the Grateful Dead, particularly Workingman's Dead and American Beauty: he's tapping into legends, then spinning them for the present day.

A cathartic yet poised album, one that weighs a ton and levitates.

It's a fascinating work of words, for sure, but the weight of Carey's arrangements and the Tempest's surprisingly nimble touch as an emcee make for something distinctive and essential.

Dissociation is an impressive album and a perfect endpoint to a very noisy and varied body of work.

A striking beginning to this chapter of Barratt's career, Crooked Man bears the stamp of artistic confidence that takes years to develop.

The nifty thing about Cosmic Hallelujah is that it plays as if it's a passion project: Chesney is determined to connect with his times without abandoning himself, and the result is one of his best records.

All that's here, dark or bright, is vital.

"Charlie Brown" is a swirling circle of doom, "I'll Take It and Break It" punishes with its stomping riff, "Bums" races along, while "Nightcrawler" revels in its menacing depravity. All this makes The Deaner Album sound a little excessive but there are also moments of madcap pop ("Bundle of Joy," "You Were There"), twisted country ("Tammy"), and funk ("Mercedes Benz"), all parceled out with expert pacing, so the album plays like a drunken, giddy party.

This is no nostalgia trip or callous comeback. It's a giant exclamation point on the end of a brilliant career. It's also a tribute to the everyman genius of Phife, a widescreen look at the record-making skills of Q-Tip, and most importantly, it's a pure, undiluted, joyous thrill to have the Tribe back and still sounding this vital.

It's artistically satisfying because it's the Rolling Stones allowing themselves to simply lay back and play for sheer enjoyment. It's a rare thing that will likely seem all the more valuable over the years.

Arrival is a fantastic album and a great piece of film score work, delivering menacing, daunting cacophonies of noise that evoke all types of fear, wonder, and intrigue that are evident within the movie itself.

In short, RTJ3 is near perfect in its execution. They're so good at this that it seems almost unfair in its effortlessness.

Musgraves slyly waltzes right up to the edge of kitsch without ever crossing over into camp. It's a delicate balancing act that she performs with ease because there's a lightness to her delivery and also to her original tunes.