Between these two sets, fans get a chance to explore the many facets of High on Fire's sound, and no matter which side of the coin you might fall on, the Spitting Fire Live series has something for you.

It's music to put on when things are getting just a little bit too hectic but you'd never dream of running away from your problems. Music for a suburban weekend, in other words.

It's both quiet and grand, sad and sweet, and undeniably human.

If Kip's songs aren't as hook-heavy or as sticky as his idols, it is nevertheless admirable that he's completely revamped his sound so he doesn't feel like anybody else in contemporary country.

O'Hagan proves here once and for all that he's up to the job.

It all makes for a heartfelt, satisfying whole that reaffirms Lust for Youth as one of the few bands reinterpreting the '80s that can rival and surpass its influences as well as its contemporaries.

The opening title track and "Connect the Dots," two of three cuts produced by recent Dreamchasers signee Papamitrou, are among the grimmest, most thunderous moments in Meek's discography.

Ballet Slippers excels at capturing the conflict that must have existed for Animal Collective after turning in their most successful and adored work. It might be too challenging for the casual listener, but that particular challenge is intrinsic to most of Animal Collective's work.

For every familiar move, there's an unexpected turn.

Fans of the deep-friend earth tones that made up the group's earlier works may not be completely sold on the hi-definition beats and growly synth tones of Cobra Juicy, but newcomers to the band will still have a lot to digest and enjoy in trying to sort out the catchiness from the craziness.

Producers Wheezy and London on da Track handle most the beats on this freaky and fantastic release.

The influence of early Sabbath has become so omnipresent that it's come back to influence its very creators 40 years later, but the results are unexpectedly brilliant, apocalyptic, and essential for any die-hard metal fan.

Make Sure They See My Face, is a much more cohesive record, one that may have an easier time making it onto MTV and mainstream radio.

Moomin is not making house for dancefloors; A Minor Thought aims for the sunrise, the morning after, the calm days devoid of storms.

This is a solid showing from two still-prolific artists, and while none of it is as momentous as duo classics like "N.Y. State of Mind," "I Gave You Power," or "Nas Is Like," it's substantive comfort listening in the form of highly distilled boom bap.

As a whole Handwritten has all of the heart-on-rolled-up-sleeve passion that makes the Gaslight Anthem a band that is so easy to love and identify with.

Forever is a mood album, heavily sedated and perpetually out of focus, like an R.E.M. dream after cough syrup.

As of now, they've proven that they can wear the baggy tracksuits, but not that they necessarily deserve them.

By the end of the album, the pastiche of various unlikely influences sounds more like Twig's own weird voice than a calculated amalgam, and the struggle between darkness and beauty in these songs becomes more of a focus than the many obscure musical reference points they contain.

Ricochet lives in a contemplative, midtempo state where every song has weight, melodies can blur together, and meaning is found in those few anchors that help one push through the rest of it all.

If this is a somewhat more sedate effort than the hot-wired Flat Duo Jets of yore, Ruins of Berlin shows Dexter Romweber's passion and gifts are as strong as ever, and the result is a compelling album from a one of a kind talent with plenty to offer.

Of the Cathmawr Yards is a weird album, but sometimes weird is exactly right. That's the case here.

Lean, deafening, and effective in its brutality, Bleeding Through may not have brought anything new to the table, but at least it brought everything else.

The album's back half doesn't boast an outlandish moment like "I Invented Sex," either, but it is the strongest, most varied side of a Trey Songz album, just about flawless. It smoothly shifts through several moods.

There's a pervasive sense of mutual affection and musical respect throughout this album that makes it a pleasure to listen to even in those moments when its other elements don't quite come together perfectly.

Butcher Boy were always going to find it hard to step out of the shadows of their more celebrated chamber pop neighbors, and while Helping Hands is by no means a miserable failure in doing so, it's at its strongest when it embraces their similarities rather than their differences.

Much of the aptly named Th1rt3en feels vintage, from the familiar political themes on "We the People" and the tightly wound, Dio-esque riffing on "Public Enemy No. 1" to the soft, melodramatic military snare intro of "Never Dead," which eventually explodes into a wicked blast of retro-thrash that feels positively invigorating, not redundant.

It’s Torrini's most insular yet assured collection of songs to date.