Kiss Each Other Clean is the result of years of growth and change, and though that sounds incredibly boring, it's also a record full of roiling emotion, tender wit, and deeply felt melodic beauty.

Oh, Fortune is still an indie folk album at heart, with Mangan's acoustic guitar and baritone voice giving every song its most basic foundation, but it's also the most ornate thing he's ever done.

Revelation Road is the quietest record of Lynne's career, but it feels like her rawest, too, even as it offers, in small bits and pieces, the varying shades, complexities, and pleasures in her musical world.

This strong, satisfying, often stunning third release proves he can deliver the goods.

Languid, pastoral, and remarkably serene (each track segues into each other like ice melting on a spring pond), Diamond Mine is so unobtrusive that it barely registers.... A lovely collection of ambient folk songs.

The English Riviera is a challenging but ultimately rewarding effort which cements Mount's reputation as one of Britain's most intriguing pop mavericks.

The group puts some twists on its sound, and Yukimi Nagano's lyrical thorns, typically concealed by her subtle approach -- are sharper than ever.

On Bring Me Your Love Dallas Green laments, pines, and celebrates loves both won and lost, employing a dusky, electrified patina of old and new country with a tinge of soul that's miles (sonically) from his work with the post-hardcore outfit Alexisonfire.

Purists may, of course, have their qualms, but it would be hard to deny the combination of reverence, proficiency, and sheer exuberance in evidence here -- indeed, it's difficult to imagine any serious limits of this band's appeal.

If you're already familiar with Flogging Molly, then Speed of Darkness isn't going to disappoint, and if you're not a fan yet, there's no better time to jump on the wagon than today.

Self-describing their sound as "fight-pop," the impossible-to-type Scottish six-piece Dananananaykroyd stay true to their word on second album There Is a Way, which appears to be waging a war against staying in tune, coherent lyrics, and the concept of subtlety on 12 anarchic tracks that attempt to pummel listeners into submission.

While the album can, at times, feel unfocused, that's also the point of a project like Puscifer, which allows us to take a look inside the mind of one of the most creative frontmen of the last 20 years.

On There Are Rules, the Get Up Kids never sound like they're trying to relearn how to do what they do: they manage the deceptively difficult trick of evolving without turning into something else, and they've made a powerful, engaging album that's worthy of their legacy.

The band sounds ready for battle, but too much time is spent slogging through the swamps of defeat, many of which are adorned with forgettable choruses and melodies that arrive at dead ends, only to bash themselves against the wall hoping for some kind of merciful respite.

A constantly and unexpectedly thrilling comeback from a resurgent band who have upped their game when it matters the most.

There's an unquestionably seductive flow about Young the Giant's debut that's sure to lure in many wandering postmodern rock children, looking for alternatives beyond the same old blockbuster bands name-checked above.

Hope St. certainly won't be the most fashionable or credible album of 2011, but it's a consistently strong collection of old-school tunes which will provide the ideal soundtrack for any road trip, whether it's to California or to Cowdenbeath.

The key feeling could be summed up in the album title, in a way -- it's not necessarily that the album is all about love, but it's definitely about warmth and happy energy with a definite male slant, a blissed feeling over the heavy crunch and impact of the music.

Panic of Girls rushes forth on a sleek new wave disco pulse that's entirely unconcerned about whether '80s retro is in style this season or not. This is fashionable music existing outside the realm of fashion.

For better or worse, this album is polished and mature -- words that never would have described Cold War Kids' music before.

It hardly feels coincidental that My Main Shitstain was released on a label called Big Dada, because that's almost exactly what it is: a statement that borders on nonsensical; cynically upbeat garage punk that's equal parts entertainment and introspection. No matter how it's described, however, it's definitely something you won't forget.

Described as a rallying call to guitar bands by Bowman, Up, Guards and at 'Em isn't distinctive or original enough to inspire anyone to swap their synths for a six-string, and instead, sounds more like a final nail in the British indie coffin than the shot in the arm it needed.

They execute it all with a fullness of sound and compelling melodic content that pulls the listener in, almost as surely as any first-rate opera.

If Famous Monsters was a step back for the Misfits legacy, this is a bigger step in the wrong direction.

The end result is an album on a shaded, comfortable grayscale, music that's suitably mature yet sidesteps stultifying notions of middlebrow class.

After 15 years, Boris are doing exactly what they should with fascinating if uneven results: testing their limits as a band and expanding their sonic horizons.

Despite all the electronics, there's no mistaking The Path of Totality as a Korn album...and one of their better ones to boot.

If the songwriting isn't strong enough to make listeners confuse this with a Back to Black follow-up, the productions and performances are up to her high caliber.