Crush is a fully realized progression, and one of the best indie rock albums you'll hear in 2010.

No Age's brief moment of near-mainstream notoriety may have passed by the time Everything in Between was released, but their growth as recording artists was progressing nicely and the album stands alongside Nouns as two of the finest noise rock/pop albums of the new millennium.

Its eight songs containing no masterpieces and Lanois' moody noir production reining in Young's messy signature. So, Le Noise winds up as something elusive and intriguing, a minor mood piece that seems to promise more than it actually delivers.

The ultimate irony and triumph of Record Collection, is that on an album all about how Ronson's own obsessive music tastes have defined his life, we finally hear him step away from the turntable and produce one of the best albums of his career.

Both artists are gifted social commentators with a love for snarky, collegiate cynicism that hides a huge sentimental streak.

This album's often a bracing, propulsive listen, the hardest rock Yorn has ever recorded, even if it does suggest Yorn is like tofu, adapting the characteristics of whatever spices he's paired with.

Monochromatic can also be read as reliable, giving the people what they want and with Chesney, that's an easy, relaxed good time…it's just, now that he's in his 40s, he makes records designed for a quiet weekend afternoon at home instead of a Friday night kegger.

It's not as immediate as previous Deerhunter albums, but Halcyon Digest has an appeal all its own: It's as difficult to grasp - and as hard to shake - as a memory lingering at the back of your brain.

Eric Clapton has never sounded so relaxed on record, either as a singer - he is supple and casually authoritative, a far cry from the tentative lead vocalist of his earliest solo records - or a band leader, sounding at peace with his past yet harboring no desire to recycle it, even if he's reaching back far beyond the blues that initially sparked his interest in music.

Most won't have the skills to follow his playbook, either on or off the field, but Cube's utterly unique I Am the West shows the younger generation how to cross 40 while retaining their freedom and baller status.

Invented, as tuneful as it may be, still plays an odd role in Jimmy Eat World's discography, since it can't quite figure out how to transcend a genre -- one that Jimmy Eat World helped invent, no less -- that exclusively caters to younger listeners.

In these, guitarist Brett Gurewitz's songwriting seems more fitting for the Gin Blossoms or Lemonheads than a rapid-fire punk group, but it's a change.

On tracks like "Point Me At Lost Islands," where weather metaphors share equal space with acoustic guitars and fiddle solos, the group manages to shake out the doldrums and hit a genuine stride. But the rest of the album doesn't flow so well, and The Place We Ran From winds up amounting to far less than the sum of its parts.

At the surface, the temperature is icy. But like a cold lake's waters, the music of Public Strain becomes less drastic; comforting even, given time.

Throughout all of King Night, the feeling of a séance being held or a spell being cast is palpable, but Salem's ability to be affecting and menacing at the same time is pure alchemy.

None of these tunes can compete with the band's singles, of course, but that's not the point, since No Chocolate Cake sets its sights on maintaining the band's audience rather than reclaiming a spot in the mainstream.

Not only is Ring one of the few albums to feature the Nepalese stringed instrument the sarangi and a structure inspired by Homer's The Odyssey, it's also a fresh, creative debut that more than fulfills Glasser's potential.

Most of Going Back is devoted to the tried and true, though, the hits that remain staples on oldies stations across the globe, and whenever Collins is singing "Heatwave," "Uptight," "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," "Jimmy Mack" or "Going to a Go-Go," the album inches away from being a labor of love and into pure nostalgia trip, but even then the album is pleasant enough that it's hard to complain.

This one is for those who would still love The State vs. Radric Davis even if the breakthrough hits "Lemonade" and "Wasted" weren't included.

Anyone with a taste for neo-soul should try Good Things unique flavor. It comes on familiar and comfortable and becomes more rich and rewarding with every return visit.

At its best, History of Modern is to OMD what Secrets is to the Human League: an inspired return from post-punk-turned-synth-pop greats.

Overall, though, this is an enjoyable, danceable working holiday from Sitek, one that shows aspects of his music that bode well for his many other projects.

Some of the cuts may not sink their hooks in immediately, but track for track Hands All Over is Maroon 5's best album, capturing their character and craft in a cool, sleek package.

As a whole, Imperfect Harmonies is its own animal. Tankian proves that he can pull off his grand ambitions in a maximalist approach that creates something new from the ruins of everything he destroyed to get here.

On Wake Up!, the funkiest, most flexible band on the planet backs one of the most skilled and accomplished singer/keyboardists in modern R&B.

Appropriation is the name of the game, so there are few musical surprises in the 39-year-old's veteran beats.

This is a band built for flexibility at live shows and for stretching numbers out, but thanks to Brown's easy, natural honky tonk singing and sharp songwriting, ZBB also deliver confidently in the tighter restraints of a studio setting.

All this serves to underscore that My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky is a mercilessly intense and beautiful record that only Swans could pull off, and that no matter who plays in the band, Gira was and is Swans: their sound, their musical and poetic vision, their heartbeat.