In all, Cranekiss is a beautiful pop fantasia that finds Tamaryn expressing her music's passion and sensuality in exciting new ways.

While Carry the Ghost is a sullen work, with lyrics that deal head-on with reality, and processing rather than wallowing, Gundersen hits a beautifully wistful sweet spot in tone both lyrically and musically.

Pickpocket's Locket is less furious than most of Frog Eyes' body of work, but if the music doesn't kick as hard the emotions are still there in abundance, and Carey Mercer's songs of love and hate remain compelling and rewarding stuff.

The commercial strides are obvious. The creative advancements are less apparent, obstructed by some unappealing measures, but they're in there.

Even if it lives up to the bewilderment in its title now and then, Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied is the kind of playful, unpredictable set a band can make once it reaches its fourth album.

Barely out of their teens, the band's enthusiastic aping of their idols can be forgiven (they even go so far as to build the largely nonsensical "Le Song" around the lyric "come a little bit closer," which is the refrain from the Walk Among Us gem "Vampira"), but they'll need to dial down the hero worship on future endeavors if they ever want to establish their own legacy of brutality.

Drawing on the classic amped-up sound of '90s acts like Sum 41 and New Found Glory, Neck Deep are at the vanguard of the pop-punk revival.

The ten-percent of the album that isn't a sparkling slow jam or midtempo cut is a swift and uplifting jam that approximates a super session with Dâm-Funk, the-Dream, and 1984 Prince. It leads off--both a sly fake-out and a hell of a way to open one of 2015's most pleasurable debuts.

Taken all together, the set is a fascinating document of a band you see change from the kind of band who'd release a cassette in weird packaging to a band making a grab for the brass ring of success. Along the way, there were considerably more hits than misses, though, and any fan of Flying Nun will find much to love here.

The instrumental interludes between tunes--the aimless meandering of "Muddy Dune," the squiggling "Ash Toke," and the squall of "Pincher"--are just long enough to distract and blunt the twisted, head-crushing impact of Kunk somewhat.

For the most part, Silicon works, delivering strange sonic pop candy that feels a bit too distant to warm the heart, yet is strangely comforting in its isolation.

The result is not only satisfying, but adds to the already unclassifiable depth of his artistry.

Bookended by a pair of moody cuts replete with intoned prayers spoken in the background, Abandoned plays to the severity of the Catholic faith, and if Defeater's thematic tendencies have begun to wear a bit thin, they still manage to pack a pretty big punch on a musical level.

If Stuff Like That There isn't as revelatory as Fakebook, it's a splendid, beguiling album that's perfectly suited for late nights and rainy afternoons, and a welcome reminder of one of the many, many things Yo La Tengo do so well.

Highest Point is the kind of album that's easy to love as background music, as a soundtrack for a lazy summer day, or anytime good, catchy tunes with no rough edges are required.

Ultimately, What Went Down should please fans of Holy Fire, and they may not be the only ones drawn to its gloomy and persistent energy.

Nearly 20 years on, Destroyer is still as surprising and inspired as ever.

It's a grower that demands and rewards close listening--especially under headphones, where it unfolds like a spell cast just for the listener.

An album that embodies all the complex contradictions and unfettered optimism of modern country-pop in 2015.

Through its short running time Krol doesn't do anything that hasn't been done before, but that's really OK. He's got energy to spare, some really good songs, and a snide, slightly wounded voice of his own. Add in how well the quick-and-dirty production style suits the songs and Turkey ends up being a fine introduction to Krol and his sound.

At his best, he's as poignant, heartbreaking, funny, sad, and creative as Stephin Merritt, and Nephew in the Wild is a gentle reminder of this.

If Kip's songs aren't as hook-heavy or as sticky as his idols, it is nevertheless admirable that he's completely revamped his sound so he doesn't feel like anybody else in contemporary country.

It doesn't cover the Isleys' brief '60s stints with Wand, United Artists, and Tamla, but it is remarkably generous with dozens of bonus tracks--mono versions, single edits, instrumentals, and so forth--and LP-replica sleeves for each album.

They probably could have sold themselves as a revival band or pretended to re-form in their poppier guise; that they have made an ugly, snarlingly dark album like Hidden Fields instead is truly impressive.

Myrkur's music melds all of her adopted stylistic elements, lets their seams show, and emerges with an innovative, alchemical creation of her own. M expands on black metal's boundaries yet holds its dark, foreboding spirit close.

Confounding as ever, James nonetheless presents some of his most physical and ultimately electrifying tracks here.

In the right circumstances, the Bohicas seem perfectly capable of putting it all together, but overall, this debut could use a little more spark and a little less label-purchased leather jacket.

Those who still believe that rock & roll can and should make you move ought to put Under the Savage Sky on their playlists pronto; it's the raw real thing.