From the serene liquidity of "Karuna" to the spatial experimentations of the instrumental title track, Silberman's personal transformations are revealed on this thoughtful and understated debut.

When the tracks are beatless, they sound like the musical equivalent of distant waves rushing deep in the night. What Long does isn't exactly complicated, at least on the surface, but it's still highly immersive and quite gorgeous.

Additional guests Kendrick, Pharrell, and Wiz Khalifa add to the star power, but the main attraction is Bruner's singular combination of tremulous yet fluid bass and aching falsetto.

At over two hours long, it's easily one of Mark Kozelek's most ambitious undertakings yet--or one of the most self-indulgent, depending on the listener's perspective.

Fans of either rapper will enjoy hearing them together for an entire album. The effect doesn't wear out and Plata o Plomo ends up being a worthwhile addition to both discographies.

The album's tempo could have been more varied, but that's a small complaint; there's plenty to enjoy here.

Scott H. Biram remains one of the rawest and realest honky tonk men wandering our lost highways in the 21st century, and The Bad Testament finds him howling just like the hellhound on his trail.

Though it takes a few listens to get to the heart of Heartworms, fans who have stuck with Mercer for this long will find it time well spent.

This is undeniably a Julie's Haircut record, which is as surprising and genre-defying as you'd expect.

Fans of the first album may be disappointed by the changes, especially since the band takes most of the psych out of its pop. Those who stick around will find that Volcano is a pretty good modern pop record.

The record's hazy harmonies and sauntering pace provide a cozy sanctuary for daydreams that may not lead to happy outcomes but feel good while they last.

It's a very promising debut that definitely positions Vagabon as one to watch in the future.

Uyai is a fine, boundary-pushing follow-up to an arresting debut.

While Impressions does seem a little weighed down, it's really a document of their struggle, making their second attempt to leave the runway somewhat relatable; inevitably, it's hard not to root for them as they spread their wings independently.

Like a yodeling Lana Del Rey, the affected vocal presentation is bound to annoy some, but for others her delivery, along with the album's brooding tone and poetic essence, will make fast fans.

While their last album, The Way Things Fall, was some of their poppiest music yet, their Mute debut, Detroit House Guests, sounds more like a gallery installation than a set of danceable tracks.

Throughout the record, Sheeran seems assured in his smooth schtick, and that cheesy confidence, combined with the hints of new style, help make Divide his easiest album to enjoy.

There's a bit more pure pop intention to be found on Voids, but it retains the left-field charm that made them one of the more captivating acts to watch amidst the alt-to-indie rock shift that dominated the late '90s and early 2000s.

With Sensorimotor, Lusine takes another evolutionary step forward, seeming strangely natural in his skin of manipulation.

Sprout either can't or won't produce songs at the same pace as Robert Pollard, but what he does bring us is consistently pleasurable, and The Universe and Me is a lovely reminder of how many good things he brought to GbV--and how much he still has to offer on his own.

It's a daring album, and in its best moments, the listener gets a sense of how fulfilling and soul-cleansing its production must have been.

The album feels intimate and delicate without sounding rustic. The album always maintains an undercurrent of fear or despondency, but it never gets too overbearing, and stays intriguing throughout.

Wild Cat is a wild ride from one of the best hard rock bands treading the boards today, and it's a fine introduction to their high-octane style and certain to please loyal fans.

The album is intriguing and accessible, yet just strange enough to stand out among all the other experimental electronic artists mining the early new age era for inspiration.

A hard sell that pays off with a lasting impression.

I'm Only Dreaming's brightest highlight is "A Song for the Birds," a bright guitar pop song featuring DuPree-Bemis' husband, Say Anything's Max Bemis, that feels like a sequel to their previous collaboration, Perma. Moments like this suggest that this incarnation of Eisley sound best when they're creating new traditions instead of holding onto old ones too tightly.

Tonally falling somewhere between Joy, Departed and It Kindly Stopped for Me, the album's blunt confessionalism doesn't always make for an inviting world, but is nothing if not completely honest.

Paradise suggests it may be a very long time before Anohni gives us another album like I Am a Bird Now (if she ever does), but the strength and vision of this EP offers the promise that she may soon offer us something similarly powerful and moving in her new musical frameworks.