By the end of the album, as the waltzing piano ballad "Oh! Starving" fades, it's impossible not to be knocked out by what has come before and be super stoked for what might come next.

This is surf music for street goths and beach bums with bad attitudes.

It's Great to Be Alive! is a bit less than the definitive document of the live DBT experience, but if you want to know why this is a great band and how good it can be on-stage, this set will tell you just about everything you need to know.

If the Yawpers are trying to make sense of the soul of America in the 21st century, their mind/body balance makes for some powerfully satisfying music, and American Man is an impressive debut from a band that appears to have some very serious potential.

A few of the songs sound a lot like one another, and, like any rock & roll, The Things We Do can come off as risible to the rational heart and sensible head, but for the uncertain and, to refer to the Replacements, unsatisfied, the album is potentially relatable and potently cathartic.

Even with its banjo, organ, and sitar adornments, Dream All Over has a wide-open, arid feeling to it as if the band broke down in the crusts of the Mojave en route to their final destination. It also has the distinction of featuring some of Gun Outfit's loosest performances, while also being their most focused record.

If you're looking for something cool and groovin' to put under your tree or to slap on the stereo while you and your friends knock back some eggnog, It's a Holiday Soul Party is a hip, stylish, and rollicking good time.

c rhymes. Best experienced end to end, Evermore: The Art of Duality is a dense journey worth taking, but one decidedly filled with more questions and ideas than answers.

Sometimes troubling, frequently joyous, and always articulate and thoroughly individual, Son Little's cross-genre shape-shifting reveals more compelling nuances with each listen, and this is one of the most interesting and rewarding debuts of 2015.

If Hi Honey is a resurrection, think of it as a rowdy revival tent: they're preaching the gospel of good old rock & roll sleaze and boogie, sounds that are always infectious when they sound as good as this.

With his steady touring lineup of guitarist/keyboardist James Doviak, bass player Iwan Gronow (the Mutineers, Haven), and drummer Jack Mitchell (Haven, Bad Lieutenant), he showcases his rhythmic, textured guitar playing and reinforces the fact that he's not a bad vocalist, either.

As a thematic mood piece, Panhandle Rambler hits its mark squarely, and the songs themselves are of the consistent high quality listeners have come to expect from Ely who, for reasons unknown, still seems to be one of Texas' more underappreciated exports.

South Broadway Athletic Club seems like a typical Bottle Rockets album on the surface, but dig a bit deeper and you'll find a set of songs as strong and emotionally powerful as anything this band has delivered since 24 Hours a Day.

On Mythologies, Cheatahs expand on the surreal, otherworldly aspects of their sound, and seem to take abundant pleasure in wringing sweetness out of caustic, discordant noises.

All this flair is a welcome reminder that, for all his vaunted blues purism, Gibbons remains something of a futurist, happily blurring the lines between the present and past along with obliterating the lines between cultures.

This is unapologetically well-tailored contemporary music, drawing upon the traditions of Kentucky and Laurel Canyon to create something gentle, pretty, and substantive, something that is as enchanting as it was the first time around.

Be Small is loaded with simply good, interesting songs.

Mild High Club doesn't try too hard and avoids indulging in cloying weirdness, resulting in an enjoyable, naturally flowing album.

An album that's a noisy, abrasive joy from front to back.

Beautifully captured on tape with the mix of spontaneity and professionalism expected from a Rawlings/Welch performance, Nashville Obsolete has something of a brooding grandeur to it.

A little bit of restraint goes a long way for Keep Shelly in Athens, as their second album retains the creative spirit that made their early EPs so intriguing without succumbing to the dramatic, overbearing impulses that bogged down their first album.

It feels true to who he is today: an entertainer who is happy to reveal part of his heart because he now knows there's an audience who cares.

With its ghostly music box pianos, electronic watercolors, staccato strings, and elliptical melodies, the album feels simultaneously elusive and introspective.

Whereas The Light the Dead See was a simple addition of Gahan's lyrics to the Soulsavers' music, this is a fully cohesive collaboration, with both artists sharing songwriting credits on all songs.

They may not be the kind of band to curl up with on a rainy night anymore, but they make the leap to a poppier, more expansive sound with stylish grace and keep just enough of the mystery intact to stay interesting.

As a whole, Sun Leads Me On is a far more confident-sounding animal than 2012's Dark Eyes, with the band coming off less like a hastily assembled, albeit talented, group of strangers, and more like a road-tested, yet well-rested army of four.

Newsom can make her audience work almost as hard as she does, but the rewards are worth it: Dazzling, profound and affecting, Divers' explorations of time only grow richer the more time listeners spend with them.

The production on II is cleaner than on Fuzz's first studio album without ironing out the nooks and crannies of the band's sound (the report of Moothart and Ubovich's amps is just as fierce and buzzy as ever), and listeners who resonate to Iommic frequencies will get a righteous shake from this music.