2014's more than servicable Strange Weather EP rounds up five covers, all of which are delivered with the usual impeccable taste and gothic flair that have become Calvi's trademarks since her debut in 2011.

It may not pack the same sonic punch as their early singles, but it has an overall more interesting sound, and the hard-won wisdom and feeling Berman injects into the songs now means that the Pains have transcended their struggles to find a sound, and have truly arrived at last.

An album typified by serene, earth-loving optimism, even when romantic heartache is in play.

A welcome new entry in PT's catalog, it reveals in fits and starts that the band have plenty left to say -- just what that is remains elusive and unclear on this wide-ranging return.

Fading Parade might be subtle, but it's obviously another step forward for Quever and company.

Or Give Me Death is fun yet serious, cheerful yet depressing, simple yet intricate.

The entire album is exhilarating from top to bottom, and is easily the most exciting Squarepusher-related release in at least a decade.

This loose, adventurous collection of songs is more vital than many of the other overcooked projects that Rocket Juice's main players have been involved in during the 2000s and 2010s.

This EP marks a vital point in POBPAH's artistic development, a chance to see that they aren't willing to just sit back and repeat themselves. It's a pretty good listen, too.

Even if Paper Dolls isn’t as ambitious or immediately satisfying as Structure and Cosmetics, it offers plenty of small pleasures for Brunettes fans, who still walk the line between cheery and melancholy in their own unique way.

The Final Frontier still brings Iron Maiden closer to their aesthetic legacy and triumphant year 2000 rebirth than its two predecessors.

All of this is enjoyable but it's rarely compelling, as very few songs play with the original arrangement in any serious fashion.

As this excellent introductory comp proves, no matter which sonic path he chooses here, or will choose in the future, Furlow's songcraft and skill at coming up with hummable, strummable songs will serve him well and make fans of pop music with a little grit and gunk quite happy.

We Are Catchers lets you choose your level of engagement: listen to the pretty tunes or dig in and feel something. Either way, listening to the album is a treat and those who like their pop soft as clouds should find plenty to love.

As always, In Glendale is a lot of fun, especially for fans who are prepared to smile in recognition at these songs rather than laugh at them.

It certainly slots in a level below their more considered releases, but if one is fully onboard with the King Gizzard experience, Laminated Denim is certainly worth adding to an ever expanding collection of works.

The Foos can sometimes feel like a bit of a chore if they lean too heavily in one direction--as they do here, where despite the conscious blend of acoustic and electric tunes, the rockers weigh down Echoes more than they should, enough to make this seem like just another Foo Fighters album instead of the consolidation of strengths that it was intended to be.

Mirror Mirror isn't the kind of record that will bowl you over right away, but as you listen, the barely contained drama and violence of the performances, the bloody hooks each song contains, and the inspired craft of the arrangements will draw you in and knock you out.

Mostly, though, the album is burst after burst of cheerful, weird pop songs that will have you in a state of nostalgic happiness.

Of Copeland's experiments with more traditional beat-making, it's easily the best, most accessible work and still manages to be more stunningly weird than the majority of everything else out there.

The release is certainly pleasant, but it often seems too laid-back and sluggish to really get excited about.

It's a solid debut, both in terms of its songwriting and textures, with no "for an actress" qualifier warranted.

It all adds up to an album that cleverly feels stylish and fashionable without abandoning the emotional gravity P!nk has accumulated over the years.

The scope of Mr. Love & Justice is often modest, but it speaks with grace, wisdom, and heart, and finds Billy Bragg a bit older, a bit wiser, and still committed to fighting the good fight; it's a return to form, a step forward, and a potent reminder of why Bragg's music still matters.

On first blush, the album's lack of anything with the prancing grace and energy of "No Clear Reason" is a minor disappointment. After a couple spins, however, that notion is replaced with anticipation for Ozanne's next move.

Butler's production makes her solid voice and intriguing songwriting into an excellent album; although he stays in the background, the occasional guitar flourishes or sweetened strings make Rockferry a better debut than Joss Stone's or Amy Winehouse's.

Even if Precious Memories winds up as something slightly underwhelming, there's no denying that this is precisely the album Jackson wanted to make, one that's consistent in tone and exact in its vision.

Ultimately, Young Ejecta play with intimacy and distance, loss and rebirth in such compelling ways on The Planet that it feels more like an introduction than a continuation.