Even when AATM feels like it is coming straight out of left field, it is highly entertaining.

Yeah, there are electric guitars everywhere, and this is a nice-sounding band, but, given the caliber of the talent, it would seem the songs should be better instead of just bounce-offs for guitar pyrotechnics.

While he still peppers his rock anthems with flourishes from an adept jazz-informed horn section, Electric Slave is his most primitive album to date.

Maintaining momentum with ruggedly catchy pop tunes sticking out among the more spaced-out garage psych explorations, Ages takes its place in the storied Flying Nun lineage without sounding solely like a replica of previous chapters.

Between the Day-Glo commercial sounds, the glassy house and disco tracks, and Melidis' penchant for completely disjointed found sounds, Years Not Living becomes a subtle but distinct collage, and a catalog of grooves in a constant state of pleasant disruption by his collection of otherworldly noises and samples.

Repave is anything but showy. It's a pretty type of album that washes over you, made up of slow burners that melt like hot wax.

The results sound more natural than risky and the entire album finds a nice place between the direct and the obtuse.

Ultimately, while it's the hum of Allan's inner demons that drives most of the album, there's no white noise on Later...When the TV Turns to Static.

Lead singer Duncan Campbell does a fine job on his second album after the departure of his brother Ali, and with inspired song choices meeting an inspired band, Getting Over the Storm doesn't come off as a gimmick but a gift.

As inspirational as Bikini Kill's life-affirming blasts of punk could be, they were never as accessible and simply fun as the '80s synth pop modes of Run Fast, which somehow manage to be equal parts poetic, provocative, moving and enjoyable.

Thematically, Múm return to contrasting innocence and danger.

Only "Pot of Gold" falls short of being a winner because honestly, no one on earth can make sub-Starship '80s rock sound good. The rest is darn good though, and shows that Rado has more ideas than one band can hold, and also the skills to turn them into little nuggets of weirdo pop gold.

Snapshot might be more successful at reassuring rock fans of a certain age that some young people find sounds three or four times older than them exciting than it is at getting kids excited about bluesy rock. Taken on its own terms, though, it's a solid debut from a band that can only benefit from more experience.

Similar in style and cadence to their previous outing, Meet Me at the Edge of the World falls somewhere between the rural, antebellum folk of Gillian Welch, the evocative, sepia-toned eccentricity of Tom Waits, and the soulful ache of Lucinda Williams.

The release is among the group's most accessible material, even if their tendency toward goth romance and arch fantasy are still very much intact.

While the acoustic renditions of the songs certainly have a more pastoral and contemplative feeling about them, Yellowcard still manage to keep the energy that made the album so vital when it was released in 2003.

Although at times they come close to overshadowing the subtle instrumentation provided by Major and Dan Rothman, it’s actually the intrinsic balance between the contributions of all three that defines their sound.

It's undoubtedly steadier and unified [than its self-titled debut], built for beginning-to-end listening.

With Dream River, fans already know what to expect from the man lyrically, and it can't be argued with qualitatively. When you place those lyrics in the context of something so subtly adventurous musically, the result is both engaging and seductive.

For all the piecemeal recording, technological obsession and sheer ambition on the Fuse, Urban manages to fashion it all into a (mostly) working whole and maintain his identity as a contemporary country artist, even as he reaches for the mainstream pop fences.

The result is a bookend to that 2010 release [Just Across the River], with the same feel and makeup.

Imitations is a fine collection that reveals the depth of the songs through the openness and considerable skill of the singer.

Burying emotional depth and even sensitivity beneath healthily sarcastic sounds, alienated lyrics, and cheeky titles like "Comfortably Dumb," Terry Malts have made an unassumingly sophisticated album.

Imperium offers plenty of haunting moments that make it very much a Captured Tracks album, as well as one that grows in power with repeated listening.

With just the right balance of brooding and brightness, Dream Cave is one of those albums that seems tailor-made for rainy day reflection, with Cloud Control giving listeners just the push they need to go into their own heads and look around for a bit.

Fans of early Islands albums may feel Ski Mask to be a little on the morose side, but anyone who's ever had a heartbreak can appreciate what Thorburn is going through and admire how tunefully and truthfully he's dealing with it.

There may not be anything challenging here, but even though the lyrics are abstract ("Why don't you call the cops/Wild eyes, you don't have to be good") and the song titles can be misleading ("Harrison Ford"), at the core these are just love songs, and sometimes love is best kept uncomplicated.

While some bands need that kind of safety net, these guys excel without it, making Dead Language an album that's sure to please fans of the band's live set.