Coexist's exploration of isolation and intimacy is demanding and rewarding in its bold subtlety and eloquent simplicity.

Elysium is an interesting, sour, and insider-aimed dispatch from backstage, interrupted by some big moments that sound entirely commissioned.

Theatre is Evil bristles, crackles, aches, and moans with surprising efficiency considering its 15-song length, pairing fractured synths and staccato guitar riffs with Palmer's throaty, untamed pipes, sounding for all the world like a brazenly cool, alternate-universe version of No Doubt.

Stein and Brock still seem to be working out their garage and pop influences in their guitar work; they don't deliver a fully satisfying fusion of their influences, but instead split the difference between jangle and crunch, watering it all down in the process.

If it isn't both the most purposeful and moving album to come out of dubstep, it's got to be at least one of the two.

Forget the limiting rubric of country-pop: this is one of the best mainstream pop albums of 2012.

Given all the things Byrne and Clark pack into Love This Giant, it's a remarkably catchy and concise set of songs featuring some of the most vibrant work that either one of them has produced.

Away from the World is a bit of a rare thing: a return to form lacking an ounce of nostalgia.

It's part punk, part grunge, part riot grrrl, all slamming together in the mosh pit and exploding into a fist-pumping fury you won't soon want to forget.

Halstead gets closer to creating music that transmits his bare soul to the listener without much sonic trickery to get in the way. In the wrong hands, such a Spartan approach could end up boring, but in Halstead's case, it's completely transfixing and true.

It's a brave, compelling collection from an artist who continues to evolve in remarkable and unexpected ways.

Negotiations' 11 tracks ebb and flow in similar ways to one another, but upon close inspection, the deft placement of nearly hidden sonic details is what makes the album so interesting, and breathes life into the band's already enjoyable soul-searching pop.

While Koster's childlike enthusiasm, meandering, impressionistic lyrics, and Anglophile steampunk posturing may be the very definition of twee (or tweed, in this sense), like Willy Wonka, it's hard not to admire his Luddite tenacity, especially in an age that prefers instant gratification to pure imagination.

Dylan is in mostly excellent form--even when sloppy; it sounds like he's having the time of his life.

While these tales of people trying to escape their pasts aren't quite as masterful as Carried to Dust, Algiers has some great songs and a vitality that Calexico should try to hang onto in the future.

The record may not be their masterpiece, but it is an important piece of a surprisingly strong career.

It may not hit the listener over the head with theatrics or tormented confessions, but the subdued and personal nature of Church's songs here allow for a more intimate connection than on any Sea Wolf material that came before.

There's nothing outstanding here but fans of the band will have no complaints, and for newcomers it's as good a starting point as any, with arguably the same ratio of clever understated brilliance to uninspired mediocrity as any other phase of their discography.

While the Death in June/Current 93 comparisons are warranted and worn with pride, this album sees the band growing upward from those roots into an aggressive, heavily orchestrated look into the darker parts of the human condition.

The Avett Brothers aren't rewriting the book, they're just translating it for a new generation.

Overall, though, Liquid Swords is possibly the most unsettling album in the Wu canon (even ahead of Ol' Dirty Bastard), and it ranks with Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) and Raekwon's Only Built 4 Cuban Linx as one of the group's undisputed classics.

Above all, Mungodelics practically bubbles with undisguised joy in the moment, a pleasure in activity, and the possibilities they explore.

The music and images of Hazlewood singing to Axelman's family, running the Gotland marathon, and convincing Swedish children to take sides against Nixon turn both movie and album into a celebration of the enduring friendship between artist and director.

The near perfect balance of cinematic classical and rock music here may put some off some headbangers, but it will no doubt appeal to anyone with an open mind, and more importantly, an open heart.

Like all of the best Swallow the Sun songs past, these are invariably lush, powerful, cathartic musical statements; rich in texture, multiple emotions, and even nuance, but we'd be lying to call them revolutionary, or even seriously evolutionary.

The Salesman and the Shark is head and shoulders above the work of most of Rowe's peers, and he possesses a strong identity as a songwriter, even if he doesn't feel confident completely relying on it yet.

There's a strong, varied energy that's showcased as a result, with youthful ideas and a sense of trying something different slamming up against a political and cultural atmosphere that was barely welcoming of it.

This cohesive piece is still dotted with stand-out moments.