Since he's not a world-class performer, most classical fans won't find music of interest here, but Solo Piano II is an engaging record with a personality all its own.

Dear's vocals are at their most expressive, imposing, and sinister.

America's artful merging of the electronic and the acoustic shows that these tools we dedicate so much time and brain space to can also be used to create something free and emotionally invigorating.

You've got to credit Brown and his songwriters and producers for cranking out another handful of easy to remember hits that cover the bases, from upbeat and carefree numbers to go-to mixtape ballads that push all the right target-demographic buttons.

Havoc and Bright Lights is as soothing as a Sunday afternoon nap or a warm bath: it's music for when you know you're right where you want to be.

En Yay Sah is easily the most auspicious--and original--debut album of 2012.

Language is short on originality, but Zulu Winter's polished musicianship and warm confidence may be enough to win over listeners who enjoy the bands they reference here, and when they do succeed in shaking things up it's enough to leave listeners wanting more.

The House That Jack Built may be aimed at a new audience, or it might simply be the record that Hoop had to make. Either way, it's welcome for the risks it takes and delivers on.

This open-minded vision was already quite evident on prior Ihsahn solo albums, of course, but on Eremita it arguably flowers more confidently than ever before.

An utterly exhausting but consistently thrilling listen, L'Enfant Sauvage is arguably a career best which suggests Gojira have found their spiritual home.

One Day I'm Going to Soar hardly justifies the almost-three-decade wait, but it's as marvelously idiosyncratic as any longtime fan could hope to expect.

Alt-J's wave is far more awesome when it's at its most schizophrenic.

For now, Dark Roots of Earth improves upon 2008's comeback The Formation of Damnation and, in tandem with those rejuvenated live performances, promises a well-deserved second act for a band that so narrowly missed grasping the golden ring their first time around.

This is an album that hints at plenty of promise for the future, but most of it has yet to be realized.

Swallow this album whole, letting the peaks and valleys of its cinematic reach melt into one another as it moves forward toward its soft sprung conclusion.

Ultimately, in I Was a Cat from a Book, Yorkston has delivered a measured, wise, and life-affirming record, which has the power to inspire.

Solid, purposeful, and crafted in a manner that betrays both Drew's age and the album's hurried road to release, Ill Manors makes heavy-hitter number three for the rapper, suggesting that Plan B doesn't issue albums, just milestones.

It builds nicely upon The Heavy's previous work and should please fans of the band's quirky take on rootsy soul-influenced music.

With just a few exceptions, The Midsummer Station's would-be mainstream anthems of youth, love, and longing come off generic, hollow, and barely enjoyable.

A surprisingly compact album, Tracer covers a lot of musical ground in under 40 minutes, and on the whole it feels like a love letter to electronica's formative days (or like an album they might have sampled from in the past).

It is the most organic record he's issued in almost two decades; and, more importantly, it restores topical protest music to a bona fide place in American cultural life.

When they're on a roll, Guantanamo Baywatch deliver some ripping surf tunes, and they clearly know how to deliver a good time with a beat you can dance to, but Chest Crawl is never quite as exciting as it wants to be, and the flat, confined sound of the audio doesn't help one bit.

The bulk of Made in Germany is undoubtedly still an acquired taste, but as an overview of the country's biggest rock export, it's a fairly representative collection and showcases them at their best.

His sound was a forward-thinking and richly engaging blend of African roots music, the makossa (urban popular music) of his native Cameroon, and the then-emerging electronic music movement.

Suffice to say that In the Lair of the Sun God delivers from start to finish, and can't even be marred by Dawnbringer main man Chris Black's strained singing, which falls somewhere between Lemmy, Slough Feg's Mike Scalzi, and frequent collaborator Blake Judd of Nachtmystium, but fits right in with his band's lo-fi aesthetic.

What's charming about this album, beyond the sheer quality of the songs and the arrangements, is Pizzarelli's obvious and genuine love for this really broad gamut of material, and his insight into the varied qualities that make them all great songs.

Foxygen has made something that reaches out for so many possibilities it ends up reverting inward, ultimately sounding insular, like a highway of endlessly firing synapses in someone elses' brain.

Billy Joe Shaver is one of a kind, and this set proves it; it makes an excellent introduction for anyone not familiar with his singular talent.