Their sometimes winding songs seeming more taut than ever.

Hearing this evolution in microcosm is fascinating: few albums are ever as lavishly and carefully produced as The Wall, and by going through this "Work in Progress," it becomes clear just how much labor Floyd and producer Bob Ezrin exerted on the finished album.

Pre Language is some of Disappears' most confident, most accessible music yet.

It's all pretty smooth, sleek and, for the most part, fairly subdued.

Acting as a kind of crossroads between the old C.O.C. and the new, Corrosion of Conformity feels more like a distillation of their career than an evolution of their sound.

Lovett is relaxing into the songs and sounds he loves, and he hasn't sounded like so much fun in years.

Bones is undeniably still a solid follow-up that should consolidate their second-tier status, but they'll have to change the record next time around if they want to move into U.K.'s alt-metal big league.

If some songs breeze by without sticking, other songs like the two-part "Point of Go," split between a calmer and a more energetic section defined by the drumming, stand out.

With this album, Windy & Carl are more controlled, focused, and confident than ever before, offering up their best work to date in an evolution that may just prove to be without limits.

The album as a whole abounds with effective, intriguing atmospherics. It's just that, for all its potential, Fin is merely fine.

While Learning's haunting storytelling remains singular, Hadreas is as brave an artist as ever, and Put Your Back N 2 It is a heartening follow-up in so many ways.

Sleigh Bells may have topped themselves here, but it's a case of more being less.

Black Radio creates an entirely new context for popular music in its near erasure of boundaries. It is the sound of the future--even if no one knows it yet.

Taken as a whole, Ternion is a strong step forward for the band, one that takes them to the front of the line of bands looking to re-create the sounds, and more importantly, the feel of classic synth pop.

Brutal, unrestrained, and unapologetically ferocious, Utilitarian proves Napalm Death certainly aren't going to mellow with age, and fans of their merciless sound wouldn't want them any other way.

On first blush, the album's lack of anything with the prancing grace and energy of "No Clear Reason" is a minor disappointment. After a couple spins, however, that notion is replaced with anticipation for Ozanne's next move.

New Multitudes, on the other hand, aims for a darker and more introspective tone, and when Farrar takes center stage, he unwittingly reveals his Achilles' Heel--no matter who he works with, he insists on dominating the musical conversation, and when his co-writer has been dead since 1967, there's not much hope for any real balance.

Check the Preview EP for a better introduction, but if you're a fan, Breakfast is a great way to start the day.

Toward the Low Sun is crushing in its sadness, unrelenting in its sweetness and pure aural emotion.

It was brave of Memoryhouse to drastically change their approach on their first full-length, but while The Slideshow Effect has plenty of appealing moments, they don't add up to a satisfying album.

Ultimately, the great thing about the '80s vibe on Rooms Filled with Light isn't that Fanfarlo have aped their idols, but rather that they've found a way to make these Day-Glo, spiky-haired melodies feel utterly contemporary.

The result is a wonderfully immediate album that feels like a Saturday night house party--complete with moonlight, dust flying from the carpet under the feet of dancers, and crickets and night bird calls out the open windows.

Much of what remains is pleasant and executed with finesse, yet not as memorable as the majority of The 18th Day or Shine.

Mouse on Mars sound only like themselves on Parastrophics, an album that's a rebirth and a welcome return for one of electronic music's most restlessly creative acts.

mately, despite his loftier intentions, this works perfectly well as another excellent Chuck Prophet collection that for most listeners only marginally adheres to its stated concept but is no less impressive because of that.

Hairdresser Blues offers a more intimate window in to a more down-to-earth personal world, allowing room for that enormous persona to be folded back into the greater sum of Bogart's infectious songwriting personality.

Ghostory is as lushly layered as ever, with spectral textures and propulsive dance rhythms, both programmed and played, equally affecting.

Beautifully crafted, if slightly inconsistent, Underrated Silence is undoubtedly still more of a mood setter than a head-bobber, but it's a far more challenging and ultimately rewarding listen than your average chill-out fare.