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.