Peanut Butter ... might be just a little too left-field to capture the zeitgeist in the same way that Skinner did a decade previously, but it's a hypnotic and ultimately rewarding debut which, along with recent efforts from James Blake and Jamie Woon, proves that the words chill-out and challenging don't have to be mutually exclusive.

He definitely deserves credit for going beyond the usual sounds you might hear on a modern singer/songwriter album and it works often enough to make the record a treat for anyone who wants something confessional and real but not boring.

Non-vocal tones do occasionally pop up here, most notably some well-placed piano lines, but Barwick's voice is undeniably the focus here, in all its evocative, otherworldly glory.

Malachai remain a fascinating, worthwhile, and essentially unique proposition, and there's still plenty to enjoy, for fans and newcomers alike, even in this somewhat diminished Return.

Fans of his live sets will wish this was mixed, but with a Skream mix of Major Lazer, a collaboration with Borgore, plus a freaky Lil Jon team-up you don't want to miss, the Diplo faithful should be well satisfied.

It hardly feels coincidental that My Main Shitstain was released on a label called Big Dada, because that's almost exactly what it is: a statement that borders on nonsensical; cynically upbeat garage punk that's equal parts entertainment and introspection. No matter how it's described, however, it's definitely something you won't forget.

While the record may just seem like a pleasant diversion for two friends glad to have a chance to hang out and make music, it turns out to be fun for everyone else as well.

The Deep Field finds her alone but not lonely, still searching for something and finding beauty and even happiness, if not answers.

More confident, explosive, and produced than their lovable but ultimately flat-sounding debut, the aptly named Departing finds the trio ditching the living room scene for the road, carving out a solid collection of fiery, understated, nostalgia-laced indie pop gems that fly by like mile-markers.

Moments of band interplay showcase their collective ear for the nervously romantic-sounding post-punk that's helped inspire the group's sound.

Since the singing is in Zulu for the most part, the focus on nature, children, and animals may not be immediately apparent to an English speaker, who will hear the disc as a typical collection of a cappella singing, with Shabalala taking a lead part in front of the group's harmonies on short, repeated phrases.

Tyevk are still at the best when they keep things short, snarky, and catchy, as on "Underwater 1's" sunken mental asylum rave-up or the road rage rant "Pricks in a Car." Nevertheless, Nothing Fits proves that they can change things up and still deliver music with visceral impact.

The 12 songs on Thrawn have been culled from six studio albums released between 2003 and 2009 (Anderson has released more than two dozen albums independently) and serve as an excellent introduction to his work.

This broadening of the palette is as deliberate as Accelerate's reduction of R.E.M. to ringing Rickenbackers, and while it occasionally feels as if the bandmembers sifted through their past to find appropriate blueprints for new songs, there is merit to their madness.

If it won't change worlds, it's engaging enough for what it aims to be, and when "Bumper Car" hits a lower-voiced break over a clattering beat with an easygoing grace, the whole thing feels like even more of a treat that could turn even better with time.

There are moments when a few different "shades" of heavy are detected, including the beginning of the aforementioned "Shitlist" and the album-closer, "Lend Myself to the Night." However, for those who like excuse-free metal cranked to ten from beginning to end, DevilDriver have assembled one gnarly Beast for you.

This is the work of a master guitarist who has taken his time to come up with a quality record.

Kraus and her various collaborators throughout--notably Christophe Albertijn, who both performed and recorded the overall effort--are a bit more plugged in overall, but if the feeling of the the album is misty folk-rock at many points, it's the folk that still predominates throughout.

Tignor's musical apprenticeship in the avant-garde world shows through as well, and between the minimalist motifs, flowing violin lines, and brass interjections, Light Science sometimes suggests the likes of Steve Reich, LaMonte Young, and Pauline Oliveros letting their hair down for a garage-band jam.

The vocals and flourishes are strongly Punjabi -- songs are often sung in the language, not English as they usually are on a Cornershop LP -- but these are essentially trappings for a collection of multicultural dance-pop not too dissimilar from the group's albums since 1997.

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.

In a way, the album seems like a bit of a farewell to an old friend, with lots of wistful moments to be found under the layers of synths and fuzz all throughout the album, really nailing home the Death Set's method of mixing the old with the new to create something that strides boldly forward as it fondly remembers where it came from.

While the New York Dolls struggled to balance past and present on their previous reunion albums, Dancing Backward in High Heels is a product of the here and now as defined by two guys following their muse in their own way, which is just what they should be doing at this stage of the game.

At times, the band appears single-minded in its determination to turn over a new rock, and the album suffers whenever Last Night on Earth focuses on presentation -- the polished production, the overdubbed handclaps -- instead of content.

Rise Against are still a band with plenty to say. All the d-beats and raw vocals in the world don't mean a thing if you don't have a message you believe in.

Like its predecessor, Bootleg, Vol. 2: From Memphis to Hollywood is essential for Cash collectors and hardcore fans, adding even more depth and weight to his enormous stature in American popular music.

It's a shame this little team [Dee Dee, producer Gottehrer and Raveonettes' Wagner]couldn't make more records like this.

Its members share a similar sensibility, so that, although they alternate selections as if participating in a song pull, the album holds together in the same spirit... the familiar one of the drunken slacker full of gallows humor, and the folk and folk-rock music, appropriately, is played in ramshackle, thrown-together arrangements.