The remarkable thing is, for as proudly new wave as Move Like This is, it doesn't feel desperate or cautious: it's as bright, infectious, and tuneful as the Cars at their prime.

The resulting I Am Very Far, which was produced by Sheff, feels both transitory and triumphant, successfully integrating the Austin, Texas-based collective's penchant for lovelorn, indie Americana with the wild abandon of 21st century pop music's increasingly blurry genre borders.

Cat's Eyes is an intriguing album of heartbroken, shadowy pop that transcends its influences when it aims directly for the heart.

A super-confident and adventurous collection of songs, Disc-Overy is the sound of an artist completely on top of their game, which could finally help the distinctly British grime scene go worldwide.

To his enormous credit, Laurie never sounds like a dilettante among this group; he holds his own, working his way into the marrow of the songs, playing credible piano throughout the record.

Weird as it is, this is his most exciting work yet.

Given the the Heavy Eights' strengths throughout, it makes more sense to say that Kilgour's definitely found his own personal Crazy Horse.

Art of the Improviser serves as a testament to Shipp's achievements, yet it is also a continuation of the discovery in his developmental musical language.

WhoMadeWho have been accomplished, even inspired, in the past, but here they emerge on a whole new level, displaying a subtle command of tension and release and an assured, seamless blending of rock and electronics, suffused with unfeigned emotionalism, which calls to mind the confidence and mastery of marquee acts like LCD Soundsystem and Radiohead.

The knack for adding that sudden feeling of positive release is perhaps best summed up by the title of another song with a similar touch: "Rising."

For returning Cam'ron and Diplomats fans who don't mind a little bumpy with their ride, Gunz n' Butta is the casual collaboration album done right.

Cosmic Lieder isn't heavy or indulgent; it's deeply focused, curiously open-ended, and deeply satisfying.

While a few of these songs stick in your ear right away, perhaps not surprisingly for a band named after small statues, the overall tone of the album is one of detailed intricacy.

Layus still sings them like they're gospel verses, channeling enough sincerity and bold self-assurance to make up for the fact that he's the umpteenth person to compare his love to an ocean. This is the band's best album to date. Looks like the third time's the charm, boys.

Depending on your disposition, Earth Grid will be either a delightfully compelling listening experience or a maddeningly dull one. Either way, Osborne's uninterested.

The songs and performances are strong enough, melodic enough, and fun enough that you can enjoy the album for what it is: 30 minutes of noisy, hooky pop that sounds better every time you listen to it.

The album does not merely transcend period-piece status. It's the high point of Saadiq's career, his exceptional output with Tony! Toni! Toné! included.

Wild Beasts continue to find finer ways of expressing themselves while still holding onto the primal passion they've always had, and Smother is some of their most accessible yet creative work.

With every manifesto being tempered by a transforming mantra, Generation Indigo is quintessential Styrene.

It's a seemingly disparate list, but it's a testament to the producer's abilities that he can craft songs that fit so well with each voice.

Ultimately, though, the tracks and Memphis May Fire themselves are the sum of their parts and little more; like many young bands, they haven't learned yet that writing a bunch of parts isn't the same thing as writing a song.

Throughout, Wells' arrangements are excellently matched with Moffat's lyrics and performances song for song.

The lo-fi production often makes Baenziger's laments hard to decipher, but her delicate voice drips with a heartache and loneliness that makes the tunes hard to resist.

Because Light After Dark tries so hard to keep up with the tricks of the trade in 2011, it loses any sense of originality that Maguire brings to the table, which, especially in the pop music scene, is the only way to stand out.

Fight Like Apes are neither catchy nor profound enough--romantic brooding and trashy partying are mutually exclusive--but that's exactly what makes this band genuine, because that problem, after all, has never stopped generations of teens from going for both moods at once, just as Fight Like Apes do here.

Hieroglyphic Being's unrecognizable, incongruously mechanical mix of "Satellite Sniper" is the only real misstep (albeit a minor one), and all told this is one of the most rewarding remix albums in recent memory.

All this hurly-burly camouflages the essential truth of The Hot Sauce Committee: that the Beasties could sit on an album for two years to no ill effect to their reputation or the record's quality.

Given her promotion to the Paula Abdul seat on American Idol, there's a distinct irony in having the first sounds on Jennifer Lopez's Love? all twisted through a vocoder: she may be judging the pop purity of legions of hopeful singers, but even she can't resist the siren call of the computer.