"The Ghetto" with Nas and will.i.am does not disappoint, leaving the album's numbering system the only thing to complain about, as 2015 is the Game's second-best year ever, and there's nothing ".5" about it.

Great news is The Documentary 2 sounds effortless and winds up awesome because of it.

Approach it as a much more relaxed, refined, and ethnobeat version of St. Germain.

Like the EP, it frustrates almost as much as it charms, but Raury's energy is ceaselessly positive, and his potential is abundant.

The album's widescreen sound and bone-fracturing impact leave no doubt that Killing Joke are still deeply committed to what they do, and it's genuinely remarkable that they're still sounding this furious and effective 35 years after their debut album.

Its wider emotional range and stylistic switch-ups, none of which is outside Newman's grasp, give it a slight edge.

At nearly an hour long, Grey Tickles, Black Pressure is a dense, rewarding listen from an artist who's becoming more complex, and more direct, with each album.

In its own way, Thank Your Lucky Stars is just as rewarding as Depression Cherry, and arguably more immediate. Instead of releasing another mammoth effort like Bloom, they've delivered two smaller-scale triumphs that can be appreciated separately or together.

It's another dense, thrilling journey into the daunting catalog of the most intergalactic musician of all time.

A haunting debut, Communion finds Rabit living up to his potential in stark, beautifully ugly and angry ways.

As personal and inward-gazing as Ryder-Jones' songs are, he imbues them with a weary comfort, inviting listeners along rather than detaching himself, and if making fine albums like West Kirby County Primary is his form of therapy, he's bound for success.

Maybe Soldiers of Fortune aren't a band, but they know how to rock, and Early Risers shows they can do that even with tongue in cheek and hipster cred in check, making the achievement all the more impressive.

This is not just a nostalgic look back at a classic album, but Merchant fully inhabiting the material in the present tense. The depth in these recordings makes it a welcome companion to Tigerlily.

Ultimately, Little Mix's stylish, decade-blending synergy works, and Get Weird ends up being a lot of fun.

It's another batch of nuanced, quietly intense songs that have some degree of heartache to them.

Elaenia is fated to become one of those albums that inspires ritualistic listening parties held by small groups of audiophiles. That shouldn't be held against it.

By breaking down the barriers that separated these three albums, The Cutting Edge shows how for Dylan during this blinding, brilliant peak his music was a living thing, evolving from song to song, take to take, where the quest itself was as transcendent as the final destination.

Ultimately, it's the unexpectedly appealing combination of Goulding's distinctive voice and the melismatic R&B bent of the songs on Delirium that makes for such an ecstatic listen.

Though it might not be as substantial or as neatly tied together as No Better Time Than Now, the EP is easy to enjoy and full in form.

A leaner, at times heavier album than its predecessor, Rehumanizer still satisfies as it proves that Maserati's music is built for endurance as well as speed.

There's so much good chemistry and a sense of purpose on Bad Neighbor that it's easy to see why this crew reunited, and while this is a loose posse effort and not the artistically weighty material fans usually get from the members individually, both MED and Blu's discographies get one their tightest releases to date.

Wolf Eyes are more than just another noise project, their world-view is intact, and I Am a Problem: Mind in Pieces is strong meat for those willing to take a healthy bite.

An already bright field of songs that have been treated with the utmost care and concern, which is a testament to both MacColl's great body of work and the musicians who were affected by it.

Silver Bullets fits together as a whole and doesn't need a pop hit, heavenly or otherwise, to be interesting or worthwhile. It's enough that The Chills are back and just as good as they were when they left off.

Sonically, Manhattan is one of Lewis' clearest, best-recorded and arranged albums to date, with masses of swirling, atmospheric sounds augmenting the more detailed tracks (the sounds of crowded New York City streets and subways seep into some of the songs).

Its base is the four original songs the band self-released on singles during 2013 and 2014, and each one is represented here, with the references to specific disco and post-disco artists and bygone production touches less obvious, a little more concealed than they are on the 2011 album.

Peppered with swears and PG-13 imagery, not all of Return to the Moon is radio-friendly, but it is ear-friendly, even at its most earnest or wry.

The brass in question swells and sways capably throughout, but ultimately feels like window-dressing, never fully delivering the arm hair-raising crescendo that one would expect from an army of cornets, trombones, and euphoniums, though this is mostly the fault of the source material, which ultimately lacks the structural boldness with which to support such finery.