It's messy, but it sure is pretty.

First Serve, the album, is somewhere between the De La producer's fascinating but flawed Psychoanalysis and his entirely purposeful movie-on-wax, A Prince Among Thieves.

Much like Prodigy's return to their rave-era prime on Invaders Must Die, it feels a touch forced, but what remains clear is that the Hartnolls still have the ability to make magic more than 20 years after their debut.

Lostprophets still sound hungry and confident, and when they stick the landing, as is the case with the relentless single "Bring 'Em Down," it leaves a mark.

The Marble Downs is a cult classic in the making, and if Oldham's involvement helps more people discover Trembling Bells' eclectic brilliance, so much the better.

Their roots are just that--roots, not anchors, allowing the group to grow, often in unexpected and quietly thrilling ways.

Heartbreaking Bravery is a fantastic slab of meticulous indie composition by all standards, but it's truly incredible in its ability to make almost every statement on the record come off like the last word.

Liddle has previously described their sound as "folky gospel music played by a post-punk band," and Shallow Bed's eclectic spiritual nature proves that isn't just hollow talk.

Nothing to Do is admittedly pretty one note in sound and subject matter, but the boys deliver it with so much enthusiasm and so many hooks, it's hard to care.

Even if you don't delve deeply enough into these tracks to unearth all the layers of psychological discomfiture lurking beneath the softly inviting surface, there's more than enough to be gained simply by absorbing the artful unfolding of the tunes at face value.

This is music that speaks of the heart, the soul, and the mind; her messages are articulate and well-crafted, and this ranks with her best work of the past decade.

As it stands, Allo Darlin' are as serious as it gets, and despite the lightness and sweetness, they are sophisticated pop music at its finest.

The resulting Curve more or less lives up to its ballpark idiom, and while it may not signal a complete reinvention, it definitely distances itself from the calculated guitar-driven alt-rock that dominated 2009's Burn Burn.

Pluto is fat and redundant at 15 tracks, but it delivers whenever you desire that purple and woozy, Cudi-meets-Khalifa flavor.

There's nothing preventing them from indulging in the silliest rhymes, baffling name-drops, nagging hooks, and earworm melodies.

The quartet knows the difference between a hook and lick, and applies that knowledge liberally on this extremely likable set of clever summery pop songs.

Written while Jason Pierce was on tour performing Ladies and Gentlemen...We Are Floating in Space in its entirety, Spiritualized's seventh full-length echoes not only that album, but Songs in A & E and Amazing Grace.

Mraz pushes himself into new territory, creating music that's perilously close to sounding seductive.

Like many remix collections, Dross Glop doesn't flow particularly well, and it's not quite as dazzling as Gloss Drop, but it once again shows that Battles are up for anything.

Two years later, Picture Show proves that the band's flair for writing almost aggravatingly catchy songs is as strong as ever.

While this album and Dust Lane sacrifice some of his recognizable sound, the possibilities laid open for Tiersen are too intriguing not to pursue.

What's enjoyable about Yuksek is that he still conveys a kind of dreamy winsomeness that, at many times subtly, contrasts against the out-and-out exuberance of a song.

Shedding much of the Spoon influence of Crystal Skulls, Poor Moon follow the same rustic backwoods folk path as Fleet Foxes.

Levine's muted vocals bring an understated drama to the proceedings, making these tales of heartbreak and disappointment so aching and raw that they're almost hard to listen to. There are no happy endings here, but every emotional nuance rings true.

There are some moments that hint at that brilliance.

For all its heart, though, Underwater Sunshine still lacks the unborrowed inspiration necessary to come out of the gates as a stand-alone record.

Incredible communication and playing are the strong points of the record, even if the pieces themselves might be too lengthy and punishing to digest in one sitting.

Macaroni is classic Bobby Conn, and much like its crudely drawn cover depicting an appropriation of the classic blue and orange Kraft Mac n' Cheese box, those who like it will love it, and those who don't will likely pay it no mind.