We Walk This Road is a consistently surprising tour de force that moves easily through rock, blues, R&B, gospel, and more, sometimes bringing them all together at the same time.

Where some see restraint, others may very well see refinement, and those who appreciated Antidotes' more spacy passages will find that Foals' reinvention of their sound is a calculated risk that definitely pays off.

Capturing the freedom and loneliness of independence, Body Talk, Pt. 1 is a concise set of songs on its own, and an impressive first third of the whole ambitious project.

The prevailing feeling throughout this album is that American Slang represents a more mature sound from the Gaslight Anthem, showing us a band that has grown up enough to start attempting to fill the shoes of their influences.

The playing is solid, but one wishes Petty & the Heartbreakers had simply covered some of those old Chess classics rather than trying half-heartedly to write their own -- it would have made for an album closer to intent.

Thanks to the rich and nuanced production and Drake's thoughtful, playful, and intense lyrics, Thank Me Later is a radio-friendly, chart-topping collection of singles but also a serious examination of Drake's life that holds up as an album.

Barbara shows that We Are Scientists know what works for them, and even if it never quite breaks the barrier between pleasant and great, it's almost always enjoyable.

Lustre takes on a kind of cinematic joy where Harcourt the long-suffering vampiric troubadour steps into the light and shines.

This is a welcome return for Miller, and a must for modern electric blues fans.

McLachlan simply sounds like McLachlan here, seemingly unaged by the seven years that have elapsed since her last record and unconcerned with new trends.

If nothing on Antifogmatic is quite that ambitious, nevertheless in track after track Thile leads the band through labyrinthine arrangements that shift tempos and instrument groupings, over which he sings abstract lyrics in a slightly disembodied high tenor voice.

Release Me wipes away any memories of the band's previous work as well as any boring talk of their famous fathers, and re-introduces the band as first-rate purveyors of thrillingly fun rockin' retro pop.

Time Flies does a better job of rounding up the highlights from their patchy turn-of-the-millennium albums--actually, it emphasizes Heathen Chemistry almost a bit too much, with its five tracks outweighing the number of selections from Definitely Maybe and Morning Glory--and has space for selections from their smashing final album Dig Out Your Soul.

This triumphant self-possession comes so naturally to Christina that it's hard not to wish that she acted so boldly throughout Bionic, letting the entirety of the record be as distinctly odd as its best moments.

The second Crystal Castles may not be as immediately and consistently satisfying as their debut, but it shows that the band has more to offer than just an immediately distinctive--and confining--sound.

If the day is as sun-drenched and relaxed as the songs on Shadows implies, then may it and Teenage Fanclub go on and on.

Nada Surf show they can play well with others on If I Had a Hi-Fi, though they'd do well to apply the lessons learned here to some new tunes for their next album.

White Crosses is a big-sounding album with a blue-collar soul, but though the guitars may aim for the rafters alongside lofty, singalong choruses, the songwriting ultimately comes off safer and more commonplace than anything they've done yet.

Technically impressive, immaculately arranged and performed, Destroyer of the Void removes the kitchen sink from the equation early in the record, which helps pave the way for Destroyer of the Void, the album, to unfold, and while there’s nothing here to match the instant gratification of songs like “God + Suicide” and the lovely title track from 2008’s Furr, there’s enough meat on these bones to suggest that the band hasn’t lost its knack for crafting spiritually charged, enigmatic woodcuts of 21st century Americana.

Champ is still a melodic, eclectic record, but it often feels like the work of some other band.

Even with some of the smoke and mirrors removed, Ariel Pink is still a singular talent.

Songs written to sound like old pub standards helped to gain the group attention, but these heartfelt tunes gleam with McCauley's individuality.

There's nothing particularly wrong with any of this, but despite this expanded stylistic and instrumental palette (and some notably lush, lovely vocal harmonies), it's hard to escape the sense that this album is, ironically, even more of an indulgently dabbling affair than its home four-tracked predecessor, which at least had an appealing simplicity and directness of approach.

It feels like they could keep making these records forever with no diminishing returns; the level of quality and imagination never drops an inch on LP4.

There's enough honesty in his rich, warm voice to render even the most forgettable tracks into pleasant diversions on the way to future favorites.

This feeling of isolation envelops the bulk of Apparitions. It's a psychedelic, claustrophobic mush of layered synthesizers, organs, drum pads, and breezy voices reflecting against the walls of wide-open corridors; evocative of the unsettling feeling of being completely alone in a very big space, a la David Bowman or Sam Bell.

In sum, this the most representative outing from Grace Potter & the Nocturnals to date, and displays, however slickly, a heady quotient of strut, crackle, and groove.

Without even the slightest concessions, Goon Affiliated isn't the Plies album to start with, but fans who never wanted their gutter hero on the radio to begin with should file this next to their favorite mixtape.