Overall, it's a pretty somber affair, conjuring up images of humid, ashtray-filled midnights spent gazing out of a tenth story window, contemplating whether or not the fall would kill or just cripple you.

Everything else is instrumental, and suited equally well to either careful listening or playing in the background when some of your hipper friends come over for dinner.

A certain kind of playfulness reigns throughout much of the album.

Ask the Dust is one of the more interesting and compelling electro albums of 2012.

Spirits has the advantage of sounding like an enjoyable guitar-based drone-and-zone effort in its own right regardless of everything else Mahood has already done, not least of which is due to a certain bright tone throughout the album.

Wild Peace is a largely subdued affair, but there's so much happening just below the surface of the music that it's easy to miss some of the album's buried brilliance while you're distracted by its glimmering melodies.

A more aggressive, contemporary guitar attack aside, stunning power punk masterpieces like "The Act We Act," "The Slim," and "Fortune Teller" bear all of the vintage Mould musical traits.

while the album may be about the band's View from the Bottom (whether that be career woes, the loss of a friend, or the bottom of a shot glass), as the title of the rousing set closer implies, Lit definitely got it "Right This Time."

Taylor gets deeper into his musical roots than he has on previous releases, creating a powerful set of songs that sound as if they could have been recorded in 1974.

Into the Night delivers four of the duo's brightest, poppiest tunes yet.

The Legendary Demos is a fantastic example of a collection of unreleased material that really works rather than some lackluster hodgepodge of archived filler.

A (largely instrumental) record that's considerably more sophisticated, atmospheric, and arty than some of his professed inspirations.

Tigermending hints that she just might be too eclectic for her own commercial good, but not for the good of listeners willing to follow Round's unpredictable but nearly always successful moves.

The basic goal of Pumice to produce fuzzy, echo-heavy home recordings of pop hooks as such remains the same.

With their big choruses and building grandeur, songs like "The Hunted" and "I Can't Fly" feel not only larger, but much more refined than the songs on the group's last album.

Strange Heaven shows that Mrs. Magician have a lot of potential, especially if they keep the biting wordplay and broaden their sonic horizons.

Everybody's Talkin' is what every live album should be: an accurate, exciting reflection of a band at its peak, playing full-throttle and providing plenty of surprises.

Tape hiss has rarely sounded so enjoyable.

Wedded to this warmth is a crisp clean sheen, a sound so bright that it threatens to get goofy when Chesney and crew rock out.

Lucifer, their third and most in-focus full-length yet.

On The National Health, Smith and the rest of the band seem revitalized by the time off, delivering some of their catchiest and widest-ranging songs since their debut, A Certain Trigger.

It is a serious contender for any representative year-end list.

POP ETC's vie for commercial radio appeal ends up feeling like watching your little brother come home from his first year of college trying on an overexcited new style, complete with awkward slang and ill-fitting fashions.

Believe has enough strong material to keep most of the followers satisfied for another year, while elders should feel relieved that nothing is as sickly sweet as "Baby."

These lost recordings represent an amazing mother lode to any Can enthusiast and certainly should hold more than enough interesting moments for even a curious new listener.

Conceptual conceits aside, these are some of the most memorable and rousing songs Corgan has delivered since 1993's Siamese Dream.

Clockwork Angels demonstrates why, after 36 years, Rush's fan base continues to grow. Its musical athleticism and calisthenic discipline are equaled only by its relentless creative drive and its will to express it in a distinct musical language.

Stripped of all her carnivalesque accouterments, Fiona Apple remains as rich and compelling as she ever was, perhaps even more so.