Warm, weary, and congenially intimate, Joe Pernice, Stephen Desaulniers, Bruce Tull, and Tim Shea have crafted a fine new set of understated anthems for the terminally wistful and forlorn, all of which strut and fret their hour upon the stage in that elusive grey area between melancholic, bottle-strewn, front-porch country and resigned, Sunday afternoon, post-pot roast AM pop.

While it's not necessarily Dead Meadow's masterwork, it shows a band growing into its sound and mellowing nicely without sacrificing any of its radiance by exploring less extreme territories.

Fanfare travels easily between intimacy and more psychedelic-influenced euphoria because Wilson's songwriting remains his ace in the hole. For all its laid-back deference to his production, it's tight, clever, and artfully constructed.

Red Hot + Fela's unique yet nearly seamless-sounding collaborations offer a deeper hearing of Afrobeat in light of its wide-ranging implications trans-culturally, both in the present era and as it points toward the future.

The experience of listening to the album is a harrowing one, but the bevy of unexpected shifts, sidesteps, and complete submission into patches of noise makes it one of the more adventurous metal records of its type, and speaks to the long-fought amounts of work and thought the Body have put into their ever brutal, ever forward-looking sound.

It seems the change in membership has reinvigorated them, providing their songs with a sense of stability that shines through on an album that easily ranks as some of the band's most exciting work in recent years.

Some other experiments only warrant a B or B+ and the whole jumble might feel odd to a newcomer, but since it is mostly returning fans at this late point in the discography, Head Up High earns its title with only one or two flicks of the skip button.

While the more approachable Album of the Year makes for an easier entry point into the man's discography, this one is deeper, and artistically more filling.

Scotty's redefinition of himself as a sports bar-hopping bro is plainly shameless but, strangely enough, See You Tonight works, partially due to the Rogers-shepherded collection of cheerful country-pop but also due to the malleability of McCreery's dude-next-door persona.

Hecker's sound signature may still be instantly recognizable, but there is no denying that he has moved significantly farther down the path toward something else with Virgins.

Rather than nervy and isolated, this re-formed version of the band feels like they've got things more sorted out, replacing the uncertainty that marked albums like Emergency & I with a more carefree vibe. The change is one that makes sense, though.

While this might not be the album that will make believers out of their haters, Trivium have put out an album that, with its impressive blend of melody and scorching riffs, feels capable of luring more than a few post-grunge and hard rock fans over to the heavier side of the dial.

Wenu Wenu cleans up Souleyman's music just enough to place it in an expanded musical and sonic context that creates a new frontier without sacrificing its power.

Throughout the album, he finds ways to expand on the intimacy he hinted at on The Inner Mansions, delivering one of Teen Daze's best balances of atmosphere and songwriting in the process.

Tindersticks see this anniversary celebration as a reflection of who they are as a band now, rather than merely as a reflection of their past.

The 70-minute length of To All the Girls does make the album feel a little samey, but that can be a good thing, as it makes for nice, romantic mood music or a drowsy Sunday afternoon at home.

It's exciting and unique music, not falling neatly in with any of his dubstep/singer/songwriter peers or the large number of indie-leaning electronic producers.

Let’s Be Still engages the most when it tiptoes outside of its comfort zone.

Perhaps the Avetts are best when they run a little bit loose and ragged, letting the tempos push a little bit hard, allowing their harmonies to clash and happy to have their loose ends remain untied. Often, this means that the ballads are just a shade too tidy.

The album's sound is so alluring that it sometimes threatens to overwhelm the delicate vocals and melodies. Still, Static is a vivid, poignant tour of heartbreak that's much more enjoyable than that description suggests.

While Numan's work remains strictly sulky stuff destined to ruin any party, he proves he's not a robot at all on his most connectable, personal, and palpable album to date.

While the album does seem rather patched together with a lack of focus--it plays out like a pair of distinct EPs and a couple transitional orphans on shuffle--there's an irrefutable charm to the restlessness.

New is one of the best of McCartney's latter-day records: it is aware of his legacy but not beholden to it even as it builds upon it.

On Lightning Bolt, they've grown into that classic rock mantle, accentuating the big riffs and bigger emotions, crafting songs without a worry as to whether they're hip or not and, most importantly, enjoying the deep-rooted, nervy arena rock that is uniquely their own.

Somewhere between slumber party and rock & roll church service, Electricity by Candlelight captures a truly special moment in the life of one of American music's most valuable songwriters, and gives a warm and welcoming window into his own inspirations.

While fans of Tonight Alive's debut will quickly fall in love with their sophomore effort, anyone looking for some powerful new emo-pop will definitely want to check this one out.

While those already enamored with McCombs' lyrical approach and subdued songwriting might find more of immediate value here than the uninitiated, there's a lot to sift through, even for fans, and it might be difficult to keep focus through the entire sometimes befuddling set.

Oh Land's schizophrenic blend of girly club beats, icy electro-pop, and wistful balladry falls somewhere between Grimes, Lykke Li, Goldfrapp, and Robyn, and while it doesn't always work, it never stops working hard to get there.