Scatter the Rats is a triumphant return packed with odd comforts and familiar memories. Two decades later, L7 have aged quite gracefully, no matter how unfitting that word may be when describing this ever-raucous crew.

Graffin remains a potent evangelist of the punk idiom, and while there's nothing on Age of Unreason that would sound out of place on anything that came before it, the band's commitment to keeping the genre vital, both musically and lyrically, feels as necessary as it does timely.

Lofgren's originals may not carry the same swagger, but when they're surrounded by these Reed co-writes, they're given a slight lift: the whole affair simultaneously feels like an affectionate tribute to a departed friend and a resuscitation of Nils's gut-level rock & roll.

A more-than-promising debut, Useless Coordinates makes good on the potential of Drahla's previous work and suggests they're not done evolving.

Undress sounds and feels like the Felice Brothers, capturing their loosely tight charm in a manner that honors both sides of the equation, and is certainly an above-average release in their canon.

It can feel as if she's whispering secrets, but just when that gentleness threatens to get lulling, she scales great heights with elegance. These cannily deployed skills give The Front Porch the faintest hit of grit yet there's also a sense of fragility to the record; it's music that treasures the bittersweet melancholy of a moment that seems gone even as it's being lived.

I Am Easy to Find has loose ends and picturesque detours in addition to a revolving cast of characters and a suggestion of mess that give the album an appealingly unkempt sense of humanity.

As a whole, 10,000 feels indebted to a particular school of '80s and early-'90s underground rock, but pleasantly so, and with its own bouquet of freshness and distinction.

Compared to the astonishing Konoyo, Anoyo does feel a bit like less focused variations on the same ideas, but as it stands, it's still an intriguing, otherworldly blend of ancient instrumentation and technological exploration.

Pile hold on to all the anxiety and fury of youth here, but present their dissonant squalls with a mature, metered patience that just adds to the slow-boiling listening experience.

Unlike Kicker, which worked as a short, sharp blast to remind people the Kids were still around, Problems is the sound of the band figuring out how they want to sound in their new incarnation and pretty much nailing it.

On The Best of Luck Club, Alex Lahey adds a few new tricks to her repertoire without losing touch with what she was already doing so well, and based on this music, it's a safe bet that she'll be delivering more great songs in the future.

Cohen's voice maintains the album's consistently floaty quality through these sparser tracks, making for a relentlessly dreamy set that's lost in thought and desire.

The Secret of Letting Go retains that balance of experimentation and pure feeling, and sounds perfectly at home within Lamb's discography.

The key to 3 is that the group might be less noisy, but ultimately they're no less weird, and if the album sounds like they're still making sense of their new configuration, their eyes are still on the buzzy prize, and this is a great, challenging, off-center rock album.

Warp and Woof is a series of short sprints compared to the marathon of Zeppelin Over China, but it covers a lot of ground at a brisk pace and it's a whole lot of fun.

While there are a couple other relatively lively passages on the album, the overall effect is decidedly thoughtful and stoned; Living Theatre leaves listeners with the drifting, droning "Distant Episode" and the spare, interlude-like guitar instrumental "Angelino High."

Persuasion System signals a bit of a different approach for Haley, but not so much that it will alienate anyone who enjoyed his earlier releases.

Shifting perspectives as it changes colors, Deluxe Hotel Room is proudly, almost defiantly urban; the songs are concerned with a decaying relationship and the production is sophisticated, purposely blurring lines between styles and eras.

Rave isn't a radical departure from Bogdan's earlier work, but it is a welcome reminder of what we've been missing out on for over a decade, and to anyone addicted to his singular style, it's much cause to rejoice.

Sombrou Dúvida feels like another strong set of jams with a constant flow of bells and whistles transforming it into a tripped-out daydream.

He's sounding a bit like a curmudgeon, but he embraces his eccentricities, which means this contrarianism wears well on record, even if it doesn't in real life.

Jumping from dusty folk to booming R&B might feel jarring, but Webster's versatile personality is the core of Atlanta Millionaires Club, and the entire album flows through its changes as naturally and pleasantly as a cool breeze in the depths of summer.

Although instant, maximum commercial impact is no doubt the primary objective, the album does come across as more considered than the average Khaled LP.

Somewhere in here is a 40-minute program with greater impact. Getting to know the whole thing well enough to make a custom-contracted edition is worth the time.

Much more forceful and revolutionary than Doomsquad's previous efforts, Let Yourself Be Seen is easily the band's most engaging and focused work.

An album that requires and rewards close listening, We Fall is an evocative reminder that there's much more to Wiggs' music than the Breeders' elliptical orbit.

Despite all of its lofty mysticism, Levitation never feels exclusive. The walkabout that served as the narrative throughline on Majesty has morphed into a full-on hallucinogenic dance party, with that journey to enlightenment now being extended to the listener.