Berlinette fans may not find a lot to grab onto here, but the graceful way she explores different directions on LISm will impress fans of her more abstract side.

Sometimes the looseness that makes 180 so charming borders on unfocused rambling, but for the most part, the Palma Violets keep it in check on this entertaining, promising debut.

Poignant yet triumphant and joyful in tone, the cover [Call's "Let the Day Begin"], as with all of Specter at the Feast, stands as both a heartfelt tribute to their bandmate and a rallying cry for moving forward.

Never once do they sound desperate on Bloodsports; they sound confident, and comfortable in the knowledge that this is where they all should be.

The Chronicles of Marnia is an album that demands multiple journeys through the wardrobe, only this time it's to fully take in the album's melodic depths rather than to make sense of its technical achievements.

A pleasant and grown but tedious release from a charismatic entertainer and exceptional vocal arranger who is not a great recording artist.

The stories of grim wedding scenes, hospital visits, and the various disappointments of daily life are all harrowing and intense, but Crutchfield's deft arrangement of lyrical details and their slow-release impact keeps the darkness from ever coming off as self-indulgent.

Like some of his peers, Woolhouse can be a little too subtle for his own good, but on Life After Defo, he's crafted a promising debut with a distinctively cozy take on life's bittersweet moments.

What is clear, even through the sometimes heavier-than-necessary arrangements, is that Muchacho has some of Houck's best songwriting since his early days, seemingly tapped into the grainy pain, hard-living tendencies, and wandering muse of his subconscious with the most listenable results Phosphorescent has produced in years.

Low give us a definitive chapter for where they are presently, and present it with more clarity and joy than we've heard from them in some time.

Invisible Life reaffirms that Lange can keep that quality, regardless of which direction he takes Helado Negro in next.

Hagar's Song finds Lloyd and Moran at their most naturally curious and deeply attentive best, offering a conversation so intimate the listener may occasionally feel she is eavesdropping.

The best Delfonics album since 1970.

Wyoming is a bright and promising collection of secretly wrecked songs, and leaves us curious to see how Water Liars will continue to grow as they walk their thorny path.

Even though the music apparently went through a significant studio process, it's difficult to shake the feeling that it would be preferable to hear the original compositions while witnessing the production.

Birthdays is so fragile and broken that listening to it without signing some kind of non-disclosure agreement feels borderline voyeuristic.

It does indeed have light shade and a nice melodic bent that counters the slightly desperate rock & roll found elsewhere on the album.

Burdon pours everything into this album, as if he realizes this is his last best shot to get the credit he's due. And, against all odds, he succeeds with this tough, flinty, proudly old-fashioned rock & roll album.

The Blue Room is a brave experiment, but one that pays off handsomely.

His intelligent lyrics and melodies inside the arrangements of these beautifully crafted songs underscore the integrity and passion in his trademark voice. This is inarguably his finest album.

The lyrics to the more energetic tracks are no less dire, but as the album speeds by at just over half an hour, the impressions made by the slowest songs become the strongest, without melodic hooks or youthful release to hide their hopeless sentiments behind.

Even if not everything on Velvet Changes works, it shows that Jones can do pure pop as well as experiments--or a mix of both, as on "Holiday Man"--and the album ends up being more promising than uneven.

The four-song EP Punk Authority, Swanson's third release in the technoise vein, is some of his most punishing and relentless material to date.

He leaves all those classy trappings behind, picks up his guitar and plays a bunch of songs he likes, maybe even loves. It's not an especially compelling reason to make an album but it's not a bad one, either, and the same can be said about the experience of listening to Old Sock: it's a pleasurable way to while away the time.

Sound City: Real to Reel sounds exactly like what it is: a bunch of old rockers jamming in a studio. Often, this is quite enjoyable, as they're all excellent musicians playing through a top-notch board, but the songs do have a tendency to drift away from the point, sounding like exceedingly well-executed first drafts.

Like good goth, this is painful and exclusive, full of moody anthems and baritone melodies that won't cut through the static until the fifth listen or so.

Stereophonics seem loath to leave all that they know behind, so Graffiti on the Train remains distinctly earthbound for all its big aspirations.

The combination of strong songs, Lissvik's inspired production, and the chances they take (and nail every time) make this the best Mary Onettes record yet, and the first to sound like they have their own voice.