The set might get a little long in the tooth, even in its individual parts, but on both parts Shackleton is treading fresh ground in a whole different solar system than the rest of dance music and all its various eccentrics.

This record is a perfect soundtrack for any drunken destruction party, tantrum, or any other moment of great primitivism.

The resulting album is one that is deceptively simple, a send-up to the aggressive cultural awareness of old-school rap on the surface, filtered through a hundred different post-apocalyptic scenarios, musical and lyrical.

For everyone else, the predictable melodic twists and some truly awful lyrics will likely prove too much to endure.

The end results are still pleasant enough, but can wear thin, even just after five songs.

Ultimately what this record lacks is any sense of audacity or ambition.

Thoroughly enjoyable from front to back, Heaven oozes confidence and polish.

With Passage, Exitmusic has turned in one of the more ambition, evocative, and engaging efforts of 2012.

Blessed with an old-fashioned FM radio charm, Here is a worthy follow-up.

The triumph of Heady Fwends lies the way it sands off the rough edges off 2011's excess and whittles an honest, enjoyable set out of the mire while coaxing a wealth of unexpected voices into the fray without losing its way.

Here is an album that's neither forgettable nor empty.

It's that care and attention that leaves the older songs sounding fresh and like they belong, the newer stuff sounding great and the album as a whole sounding cohesive and pretty awesome.

Celebration Rock is in perpetual motion, driven by a visceral sense of urgency that most modern guitar music is so sorely lacking.

Like everything else the Cribs have done, In the Belly of the Brazen Bull is a relatively easy album to like, with sharp melodies and catchy hooks. It's just held back by a feeling of indecision that permeates tracks whose parts seem to want to go in conflicting directions.

It does sound a lot like oOoOO and under scrutiny with A-B comparisons, Our Loving Is Hurting Us is pretty starkly more of the same.

These twelve tracks are full, they're self-aware, they're straight up funny, and it's these traits that immediately separate Father John Misty's folk-rock from what Fleet Foxes do.

It's when I keep in mind the idea of Pull It Together being an album for her daughter that I enjoy the album most, as it's in this light that it sounds at its most charming and likeable.

It not so much a record that juxtaposes itself, but rather one that sways between the two sides of whatever spectrum you put it in.

There's potential here but it's sadly unrealized.

The music never gets in the way, and works pretty much perfectly to help the songs ebb and flow, and to heighten the best moments.

New Epoch, Goth-Trad has adopted a patience, openness and attention to detail that feels indebted to the more intricacy-focused realms of bass music and techno, but retains the sweaty, oxidized exhalations of muscled jungle rhythms.

When a flower blooms, it changes shape and appearance but not its biological essence; similarly, for all its subtle differences, Bloom avoids shedding the bittersweet swells that have become the duo's stock-and-trade.

With repeated listens, even the least of the songs still reach for that relaxing, carefree Best Coast vibe, but the feeling takes more work to achieve compared to the immediately lovable, attention-demanding nature of their entirely natural, easy-as-pie debut.

While Ship has a few compelling moments, it's mostly lethargic and sinks into its own monotonous haze.

The worst thing I can say about an EP is that it's too damn short, it's certainly a success.

Lone doesn't reinvent himself on Galaxy Garden like he did with Emerald Fantasy Tracks, but the jump from one record to the next is made even more revelatory by the English producer's refinement and assuredness.

Anyone who considers themselves a fan of unvarnished punk should listen to OFF! at least once.

Death Dreams' loops of feedback, ghostly monologues and multipronged guitar attacks lash out, often in tandem, making the music feel big.