Instrumentally, every song here is impressive, but the singing is pushed to the fore on the majority in an attempt to instigate a hook, which is only occasionally successful.

Katy B shows she's a vital voice to the smaller UK bass scene and her pop imbued form of garage has enough substance and personality to back her play for something bigger.

Even the addition of pop icons to the Rome album can't allow it to rise above its previously stated goals. There is little, if nothing, wrong with Rome, but rather, it is limited by the confines it sets up for itself.

Yeah, Gang Gang Dance's idea of accessible and pop-ready is just as trippy and emotionally affecting as ever. Now, you can play it in the car on a Friday night, too.

Smother may lack the proper drive of Two Dancers, but it succeeds in whittling down what has become Wild Beasts' motif.

Though it may not be treated as an important album in the broader scope of music, it is an important album for Man Man, and one that is likely to age gracefully, just as Man Man appear to be doing.

From epic opener "The Grey Ship," to the equally epic closing track "Red Star," Past Life Martyred Saints is an album that captivates, provokes, and pleases.

Now, clearly, the group has momentum on their side and seems locked into a promising direction. On the strength of these six songs, it now seems fitting to resuscitate those declarations.

It may be a sprawling, jumbled mess, but if Goblin's primary reason for being is to further convince us just how completely nuts Tyler actually is, then I'd say it's a success.

Burst Apart is full of wonderful little surprises like this, that add up to two big ones: that The Antlers didn't try to follow up Hospice by repeating themselves, and nevertheless, that they have delivered a more than worthy successor.

As is, I Am Very Far is far from a lot of things, the biggest among these is the high bar that Okkervil River has never had a problem exceeding, until now.

The core of the album's success is its fantastic establishment of tonal environment--a brooding sexuality both sadistic and carnivalesque.

And so here's what it all means: Hot Sauce Committee Part Two is a solid Beastie Boys record that will have something for any fan.

Fleet Foxes have become a band who will not stop pushing, who will challenge themselves to avoid stagnancy, who will work with both their instruments and their minds. Because of that, the audience is able to reap the fruit and feast on it together.

This album would not be selling or gaining attention if the band consisted of either of the aforementioned, proving that Share the Joy is nothing worth rejoicing.

As said, the songs benefit from being taken out of context and as much as that leads to just picking and choosing the moments worth going back for, the process of listening to the EP as a whole can almost be disheartening as much as it is unrewarding.

Consistently being an upbeat adult isn't exactly an easy thing to do and at least here the band show that they can mature without having to completely forget who they once were.

At times invoking Sung Tongs-era Animal Collective, although never to the point of copyright infringement, Julian Lynch's Terra is certainly an interesting listen, even if it does come across as disjointed.

McCombs would be better served rediscovering wit, rather than abandoning it, thus leaving the listener feeling abandoned as well. But, again, I guess that is the point.

The group who has created a sense of hype surrounding their sound did not deliver in comparison to past material that was praised so fondly for their vintage synth-pop sound.

The Ohio trio's fifth LP and first for Merge, sees Times New Viking maturing to an even cleaner sound, though never completely forfeiting the kill-yr-speakers aesthetic that made them standouts in the lo-fi community.

There are enough moments here to suggest that the band can find a comfortable middle ground between the two sounds that will suit both their aspirations and the desire of the listeners, let's just hope that next time around they find it.

Different Gear, Still Speeding shows that the band is comfortable with themselves and their follow-up has every chance to be a stronger album – especially if they are brave enough to include more styles, even if they won't move beyond their British Invasion inspirations.

He Gets Me High is definitely worth a listen, if not a purchase.

Though the album now comes with studio polish and masterful songwriting, W H O K I L L still feels like an underground tape, challenging the listeners with oddball melodic choices.

GB City is a solid debut, proving Bass Drum of Death as capable agents of both the blues and garage traditions.

This is obviously a band that, on some level, is trying to switch things up. But for next time, instead of testing the water, Explosions need to take the plunge.

Crystal Stilts find a way to make you care, though, and that goes along way with music this raw and rapturous.

The Defamation of Strickland Banks is most certainly a success.

At only eight tracks, Badlands is a short album, but it packs plenty of ideas into its brevity.

Through the steady flowing of Allison's vocals and the constant strumming of the chords as well as the steady drum beats, the band proves that they are more than just robots and distortion; the Kills are indeed talented musicians.

The album is his most consistent and complete, finding room for singer-songwriter-type country, alt. country, harder rock and soul within a single record, while retaining a sense of direction and cohesiveness, as well as heart, soul and a satisfying emotional connection between artist and audience .

All things considered, this EP seems to be breeding ground for experimentation and possibly be what's to come from a second LP.

Given their status, it wouldn't have been a surprise if Wasting Light had been a by-numbers affair for Foo Fighters.

Their last album was a solid shoegazing experience, but here, there's just something special about the progression of their songwriting and pop instrumentation that feels just right and the band seems to be comfortable with their own music, like they finally seem to belong.

The whole thing sort of pops into existence, an idea and a testament, and instead of resolving, wistfully swoons into silence, all a dream. But maybe that's what Lennox was going for.

Pharoahe Monch crafts an LP that not only serves as a protest to the United States' handling of the conflicts in the Middle East, but stands alone as a more than competent hip-hop record.

Nine Types of Light sounds familiar, but it's a good familiar.

Chopped & Screwed is an interesting concept that would certainly be fascinating to witness live. However, on record, it does not reach more than a curiosity frequently enough to make it worth many repeat plays.

The end sensation is one of anticipation, to hear where Eisold goes from here, now that he has made the album he has worked his career for and it is ultimately underwhelming. Thus Cold Cave are stuck with another good album, and are hopefully an album away from a great one.

While there may not be a song to soundtrack an Amazon advertisement in this bunch, it'll work nicely to soundtrack bleary summer nights–probably for years to come.

Sometimes these lyrics are a bit stifling and confusing to place in context, but once more, these songs become something more due to Turner's impeccable vocal melodies.

Yes, it's clearly obvious what Yuck's main influences are; they're placed very firmly on the band's sleeve. But with sounds that tie the band to modern indie as much as alt-rock, Yuck have crafted something incredibly refreshing, and more importantly, good.

This is a good record, but I can't help thinking that The Low Anthem are on the verge of something great.

Most often, it delivers what you get on Departing: an enjoyable but still not entirely satisfying collection of songs that don't really work as well together as they do apart.

With a collection of songs largely indistinguishable from one another, this album exemplifies the struggle up-and-coming rappers currently face.

All Eternals Deck is as obvious in its quality as Darnielle is obvious in his earnestness.

On Gimme Some, Peter Bjorn and John abandon the experimental sound they'd been developing over the course of the last few years in favor of flavorless alt-rock that falls short of the bar set by Falling Out.

A dimly lit, lo-fi hybrid, Shake takes its cue from some of Harvey's most successful past works, but has its own uniquely brash textures.

Maybe the way the album begins isn't supposed to put its 10 songs into the context of a live show, but certainly it ends the way you'd presume a Wye Oak show to close down: reflectively, with the audience's appreciation at first silent in captivation. Then, though it might not be audible on Civilian, well-deserved applause.

What makes Collapse Into Now so satisfying is that it isn't a return to form so much as a realization that the band R.E.M. are now isn't necessarily a bad thing to be.

The good news is that The Strokes have delivered a good album. The bad news is that for all its throwback production, it doesn't really sound much like The Strokes, and many of their longtime fans are probably going to be disappointed in an album that doesn't retreat to the sound of the band's glory days with its tail between its legs.

12 Lines is enjoyable enough to be worth its existence without seeming rehashed and a solid improvement over his debut.

The new directions that they have managed to find on No Color are certainly interesting to explore for listeners.

An inveterate realist, J Mascis isn't one for romanticism, and there's not a wealth of it to be found on Several Shades of Why.

I know the band can write damn good songs and they have proven that before and prove it here, but until they address the main problems (the still heavily reverberated vocals for one) or really venture out into something different (there is life beyond pasting snippets from philosophy lectures) I think history will keep repeating itself for these guys.

Take the strong songwriting, add the excellent production by David Barbe, and the tight and first rate playing, and you've got an album that truly showcases just how skilled and versatile the band is.

Though it may seem like Vile tends to waver on just how he wants to be perceived, the lack of commitment is nothing if not intensely deliberate.

Maybe Constant Future is the record to finally thrust this deserving outfit over the edge. Even if it isn't, it's still another damn good addition to a wickedly unheralded, but highly effective, library.

In The Cool Of The Day sounds like an intimate affair, like Moore has called up his friends and invited them over to the studio upon finding the Steinway piano.

Raekwon knows what he does best, and while this may not be as grand as his last, he does just that here, to the fullest.

Lasers is more an indictment of the state of mainstream rap than anything. This is the absolute worst-case scenario of what can happen when commerce is placed above art, and in this instance it's especially offensive because Lupe is someone who doesn't need to bend over backward to be accessible.

It's rare that an artist finds a voice in the unsaid. You could call her loss our gain.

Gone are the old voices of the city, the tales of the Wu-Tang and the sense that there is real struggle or strife. Instead it's a heterogeneous mix of international talent devoted less to teaching lessons or passing down wisdom as it is to making twenty-somethings dance.

There's a great EP's worth of material hiding within Replicants, and I wish it had stayed that way.

It's nice to see that Tokumaru has shaken what seemed like guilt about trying to make a playful world filled with as many toy-instruments as possible. It's unfortunate, however, that he has removed much of the emotional content that made his previous albums so rewarding on repeat listens.

The material here is as strong as we've come to expect from this band, but its pleasures aren't nearly as surface-level as even Kid A's. The best way to judge The King of Limbs in the long run may simply be to hope someone spurs Radiohead on in this direction.

Cloud Nothings, the eponymous debut from the project of Dylan Baldi, is the work of another young mind who seems gifted beyond his years.

He remains an original, talented musician with his influences worn firmly on his sleeves; a contemporary proving that the past is still very much relevant.

No Witch might not be a particularly ground-breaking album, but it is a significant leap forward for this band, and that's most definitely a step in the right direction.

Knocking out fun little songs at home with old friends is all well and good, but it isn't hard to imagine a little more effort and sincerity resulting in something a bit more enduring.

The Babies is a worthwhile enough diversion to make me genuinely excited for the next Vivian Girls record, and think that maybe Morby should stay in the spotlight and ask Woods to find a new bassist.

It makes its own statement, and it does so with the level of maturity and succinctness that we've come to expect from Hecker, an artist who has well earned his place as a leader amongst his peers.

This may be a confused record, but it finds its place through a universal truth it manages to hit: so Skinner can't quite find his way in this world: who among us can?

It's too bad it couldn't find release on a major, but still a victory. Yet, that doesn't make this album, as Saigon once declared it, the best record of the last 20 years. It makes it a good one.

Let us hope this isn't a flash-in-the-pan success and that subsequent releases are just as good.

The People's Key just doesn't have the emotional pull that others do.

Ritual is an enthralling album, highlighting a band flexing their musical muscles, trying to grow and add new sounds to their existing palette.

Where there was honesty in the lyricism of "Losing My Edge" in 2002, there is now sonic honesty in the vivacious rock and roll that is the London Sessions.

It sounds reaching, like the band is lost and looking desperately for an audience and a voice. I hope they start looking somewhere else.

Still, beneath all of her oohs and la la, is a dark-blue and starry expedition, a true passion for two musicians that really just permeates straight through the glittering guitars and infectious, harmonized choruses.

Rainbows may well be the best thing Kweli has done since Quality.

Arcade Dynamics still might not be for everyone, but singles like "Hamilton Road," "Art Vandelay," and "Killin' the Vibe" should not go unheard.

Sure Zonoscope is splattered with stumbled-upon gems, but a little more editing and maybe some more focused songwriting sessions could have really brought Zonoscope into focus.

The entire album seems either completely uninspired or absolutely rushed.

The height of popularity for this music may have come in the first half of the last decade when bands like fellow British trios Feeder and Muse were at their peak, but music this enjoyable never becomes unpopular, especially when it's done this well.

It is an unmistakably raw first album of ripe potential, and one of the more memorable releases of the early weeks of this year.

Jace Lasek does an admirable job with the production, channelling a more nocturnal version of his own band's widescreen grandeur, whilst Suuns themselves evince a knack for memorable melodies without really producing anything in the way of actual hooks.

Though he can be likened to a number of classic singers, some of the all-time greats might I add, his work is his own and ultimately original in its identity.

He achieves a lot with a little. He never gives us filler. He continues to innovate. He has provided us with a great album, one that is a sure sign his velocity has not been slowed.

Ask me what I think about it in a month and it may be one of my favorite albums of the year. For now, it is a strong debut that can prove difficult at times, but puts the singer on the map of future artists to watch.

Minks' devotion to mood and texture may seem redolent of My Bloody Valentine's foggy experiments, but By The Hedge isn't nearly as sonically challenging or heady as Kevin Shields's work. No, Minks have more modest goals as it turns out, their greatest inspiration comes not from the music of others but rather from within.

Maybe they don't care, but ultimately, without any variety or ingenuity on any future albums they might make next, Monotonix might be forever stuck in a rut with nothing to do but party hard.

Deerhoof vs. Evil is predictably unpredictable and a fun little experiment from a band seemingly incapable of recording a bad album, but it's hard to imagine returning to this years from now as often as their better work.

There is still plenty to cherish here, and no Ryan Adams devotee is going to feel disappointed. In reality, this is likely just another detour in the ever evolving and confusing career of Ryan Adams.

Ian Parton is capable of more, and his poor decisions and lack of forward-thinking will keep The Go! Team from being more than a great live act unless change is sought for their next record.

The strange, yet awfully satisfying, collection of tracks certainly won't attract new listeners to the Gorillaz catalogue, but synth-infused pop tracks like "Revolving Door" or "Hillbilly Man" will appease most listeners.

Mostly, the listener will leave Kiss Each Other Clean craving something lyrically to hold onto, to become affected beyond the immediate emotional stirs that the pure prettiness of songs like Godless Brother In Love.