There's still plenty of glamor and atmosphere in the Crystal Stilts' aura, but with this EP a significantly clearer sense of structure and purpose.

Hazed Dream is the perfect place for you to tune in and turn on.

The album is chirpy, playful and transitory, dispensing 10 songs in 31 minutes.

Quieter and striking a more somber tone than their Grammy-nominated first record, it sounds as if the band went out of its way to tone down the catchiness of their initial offering. But the softer focus put the lyrics front and center and that’s, in part, what separates The Lumineers from the slew of bands that came after trying to replicate the success of “Ho Hey”.

Not a far stretch from 2011's Reptilians, Miracle Mile is, sonically speaking, lateral to its predecessors. But it holds enough well-crafted tunes to make for an enjoyable album.

The sound is a little too familiar, and--like a lot of Scandinavian music makers--the Deer Tracks are more style than substance.

Fennesz also instills a similar dichotomy with his score, as beautifully melancholic passages on grand piano and guitar interweave and flutter through the ether of his static-encrusted digital ambiance over 15 compositions of unsettling serenity.

What they’ve found, is pop perfection, and Fifth is a contemporary gem.

The weakest element here is Hawks' voice. It's not distractingly bad, but at times it sounds like he's attempting to sing better than he may actually be capable of. But overall the effect is a good one.

The shift in sound is subtle at best, and only the most astute listener will sense any real progression. At times it’s lovely to listen to, but all in all it best serves as somnolent sounds for insomniacs.

Wholly enjoyable, but nothing revelatory.

The album is not a total departure from previous work, and their admirers will be elated at this crackerjack effort and the opportunity to live music the Strange Boys way once again.

Dreams Come True will certainly appeal to anyone who enjoys their new wave artful and avant-garde, both of which are delivered in spades across this exceptional LP that will surely be lost on many Grizzly Bear fans looking for an extension of their sonic safety net.

These songs may not scan perfectly or make much objective sense, but they feel very real and relevant and uncalculated.

The production may be a little cleaner, but the same knack for great fuzzed-out ditties is still there... a pretty good album.

Hexadic is a dramatic shift for Six Organs of Admittance, lurching into noise and abstraction with hardly a nod to guitar folk or psychedelic rock.

Lyrics are hard to fathom, and, apparently, mostly improvised, but snatches of words suggest the same general mindset as the music.

Happily, The Ghost of the Mountain succeeds in every respect, an album that sounds like the product of a group rather than simply a collaboration between like-minded associates.

It’s tranquil, amiable and very familiar.

With a sympathetic producer in Don Was, who worked with Ryder in the 1990s with his own Motor City band Was (Not Was), Ryder is able to make a late-career statement that stands tall alongside anything he's ever done.

Young Magic transform their emulation into a transformation of a style that's like nothing else out there.

These 12 songs can work individually or as a whole, depending on your mood and in the end they’ve done it again, one of 2014′s best.

Danzig in the Moonlight represents a bold step forward.

Bruiser is an entrancing album from start to finish and a promising peek into what The Duke Spirit's future holds.

Their latest full length, Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Your Anger, is another dozen or so satisfyingly original tracks by what could possibly be your next favorite band.

While Memoryhouse might be demographically marketed to the youngsters, there's something in the retro-alternative beauty of The Slideshow Effect that aging Gen-Xers raised on the golden age of college radio might appreciate a little more.

He still has plenty to communicate, his music not losing any creative potency over the years.

There's plenty more good and bad.

How sharply Holland expresses his rage, how clearly his disappointment reveals betrayed idealism....Strong stuff.

Phillips' agile vocals sweep over these mostly ragtag arrangements and provide the emphasis and impact that each of these songs demand.

The Avett Brothers have established a singular style. And with it, a well-deserved reputation that assures their place among the best of the breed.

Despite those candid confessions, Arrows never bows to Scattergood’s self-indulgence, given the swooning synths and other cosmic confections.

Like other such endeavors-acoustic re-imaginings, that is-the results aren't that poor. They're just boring.

On Ready to Die, Iggy & the Stooges sound hungry, ready not to expire but to prove something: that rock & roll is not dead and no one does it better.

When the band kicks on the distortion, things pick up immensely.

Reconvened 17 years later, Cardinal shows their hushed melodies and chamber pop sensibilities gel just as well now as they did originally.

Once just another also ran in a genre destined for obscurity, Jack's Mannequin have moved out of the emo ghetto and settled in nicely into a nice indie rock neighborhood.

All ten tracks evoke surreal circumstance, given a delivery that's atmospheric, amorphous and hypnotic.

If you like the Scottish band, you should probably pick up No One Can Ever Know. If you're interested in the remixers, they have their own material to explore. There's nothing here that either camp can't live without.

With the debut, the main argument against Fool's Gold seemed to be that they were appropriating too much African influence, sounds they didn't have a right to, into what was primarily pop. With Leave No Trace, I'd say they've gone too far the other way, eliminating the eccentricities and exoticisms that made them interesting.

On the second album by Minneapolis four-piece Howler, an energy level worthy of forebears the Replacements, Soul Asylum and even, in places, Husker Du is dialed up, making such tracks as the thrumming/thrashy “Indictment” and the hardcore-tilting “Drip” buzz around the listener’s head like so many hornets.

Easily absorbing subcurrents from Bollywood and bhangra ("Deeper Water") to fear-of-nature horror film soundtracks ("Out of the Woods"), This is PiL never wanders far from that fierce bass and pulsing percussion at its core.

At 21 minutes, these six songs come off like a moderately successful experiment, but an entire album might have been too much of a challenge to sustain.

Not intended for the faint of heart, Is That You in the Blue? chides, challenges and relentlessly rocks.

This tribute album isn't strong enough to be awarded its own two-prong crown (the Fleetwood Mac equivalent of 10 stars), but it's got enough surprises and excitement to keep the genre interesting.

As far as songcraft is concerned, this may be Benson's most consistent record, and What Kind of World will induce ecstasy in the faithful and shocked delight in newcomers.

HEK’s second album makes him sound more confident, distinct and comfortable in his own skin but thankfully not more fancier than his 2011 debut.

The impotence of railing against it is a theme running through a lot of the record, and in the case of Nightingale Floors, coming to terms with the past has freed Rogue Wave to turn in what might be their finest work.

Crocodiles play with great passion and honesty, and the album tackles every human emotion. Consider it an instant classic.

Novak may keep his arrangements raw and his vocals tunefully challenged, but his songcraft improves with every tune.

Accessible to a fault, and exceedingly mellow to boot, it flows with a natural ease usually accomplished by those with far more track time under their belt.

Ostensibly a song-cycle about prep school kids spread over an 11 tracks, the close quarters become the sites of devotion, betrayal, communion (or near-communion), and abject loneliness. But relating to that isn't required to enjoy this rich recording.

The overall sound feels live, where Van's ear-splitting power chords might drop out briefly during a verse, only to return right when it's time to drive things home.

These songs are striking in a musical sense. Young, never the most dynamic vocalist, is remarkably expressive here.

It might not qualify as a lost classic, but Social Climbers' sole output does celebrate a band who played what they felt, even if it meant being ostracized by both the sub-underground and the masses.

This is almost background music (think synth meets krautrock meets disco meets industrial), music to wash the dishes to or fold clothes or, simply music to dance to (that is probably what the band wants) and in that sense it is perfect for a darkened club where the only thing to do is dance (no drinking or fucking allowed).

A journey as personal as Lowe’s can only translate into universal messages that people receive in their own way, regardless of which way their winds blow.

A must-have item for collectors and die-hards, this is also good for casual fans that may not have all the classic songs in their collection.

Brazen and breathless all at the same time, Nina comes across as the weirdest record of the entire year, and might even be the strangest album most people might encounter in a lifetime.

Too much space and too little aggro makes for a dull Faust, alas, and by the end of the album attention spans may well drift toward grocery lists or navel lint.

There’s a feeling of triumph and celebration imbued in these tunes, although Joan’s voice remains cautious even in the midst of the revelry. Ranging from wistful to giddy, this is an uncommonly expressive effort that boasts clear allegiance to modern pop while still remaining a step or so out of reach.

The album is not terrible, just not terribly original either.

The see-sawing dynamic runs a bit ragged, ultimately.

For most, this will make superb background music for meditation or musing, a tangled tapestry that’s ideal as a soundtrack for seduction.

As evidenced by the rabid tones of Radium Death, his eighth album and perhaps his most demonstrative, Whitmore is both resolute and resilient.

NMA is the epitome of using focused musical imagination to properly exercise thoughtful narrative and controlled passion. Nearly 40 years on, New Model Army still burns as hotly as ever.

Whether the new album will get them anywhere close to the mainstream remains to be seen. Most likely it won’t, but that doesn’t mean we can’t root for them all the same.

It’s exactly the kind of album you’d expect to emerge from a deserted cave full of records--dark, solitary, a little mad but extremely well-versed in musical style.

While not much new ground is broken on A Forest of Arms, and it fails to surpass 2012’s excellent New Wild Everywhere, something can be said for the additional polish the music gets from heavy string embellishment and rather refined production values.

Anchored by the fantastic production of longtime Interpol collaborator Peter Katis, the incorporation of drum loops, sampled dialogue a la Primal Scream's "Loaded" and textural Books-esque embellishments on songs like "Arise Awake" and "Another Chance" offers the sense of sonic adventure Interpol never entertained.

Perhaps the most tangible set of songs he has produced yet.

Listening back on the first couple of releases, its obvious Alkaline Trio has learned to inject more melody into their songs over the years, though My Shame Is True is closer to their punk-ier sound than the last few efforts.

Conspired in their Windy City origins at Andy's grandmother's house, Gauntlet Hair the LP is otherwise a fantastical recording, a complete artistic metamorphosis from the pair's raw-dog early 7-inches for Forest Family and Mexican Summer that finds Andy and Craig refining their edge to reveal the silver lining behind their inherit sonic clutter.

The themes that combine to create this opus are also suitably sprawling, with subjects that touch upon key events and cultural touchstones essential to British history.

A welcomed, warm and quality return for Helio Sequence, Negotiations yet again unveils the superlative sonic possibilities of these talented gents and how their creativity perfectly complements each other.

At times, Pterodactyl wedges in too many layers, so that the parts blur together in a formless murk.

It's about evenly balanced between original material and covers that show Willner's and Faithfull's deep-catalog knowledge of pop music.

Dawson’s agility is remarkable to say the least, and despite the lack of additional embellishment, the music comes across as rich and riveting.

No, that's why God made the CD player's "skip" and "program" buttons.

Stephens' voice is, as ever, quite compelling, as capable of guts and blues as of delicate trilling flourishes. She sounds stronger and surer than ever here.

What they do is ply their trade with heaping dollops of Muscle Shoals soul, fiercely funky grooves and southern rock swagger, all doled out in substantial doses on This River, that hang heavy with the humidity of Grey’s Florida homeland.

Sisyphus is ultimately as off the wall a release as you’ll likely encounter this year.

["Arkestra" is] a mess and a resolution all at once, a miasma shot through with clarity. The rest of the album is good, but if you need one reason to play it again, this is it.

You can’t help but feel a little let down that they didn’t experiment a bit more on this one.

The band’s latest evolution is bound to shed some fans of the old lineup, but the music here is interesting enough to attract some new listeners as well.

Fortunately, the band that helped establish the early indie ethos remains as odd and unrepentant as ever.

There are a few missteps here and there, most notably on the plodding "Witches Dream," and drum-heavy "Well of Love," neither of which fit well on this otherwise strong release.

For as much effort Keenan puts into the head-scratching, overarching plot of this project, he puts as much gumption into the music that, on its own, could illuminate an applause sign.

It looks like Bruce Springsteen finally has some help defending Jersey's street cred.

ild Animals may be an exaggerated description, but their willingness to explore other environs still ensures ongoing interest.

Throughout this very odd but engaging album, she manages to slip and slide over the exposed guts of the blues without contradicting her clean, punctual, precise arrangements.

More Than Just a Dream is a perfectly ok record that can even boast one or two above-average songs, but ultimately the result is pretty underwhelming.

On its fifth album Fandango, Wellington, NZ combo the Phoenix Foundation doesn’t so much eschew the eclecticism of previous efforts as employ greater continuity

Yet another viciously fun balls-out rocker of an album.

Eno appreciators who maintain a sense of trust in everything he does will definitely want to add this to their collection.

In the end, though there are sublime moments on In Animal Tongue, the language of these insular and dark songs does not always translate well.

Musically Stew and Rodewald hit a new peak, deftly mixing the psychedelic pop that's TNP's usual stock-in-trade with the musical sophistication acquired from writing for Broadway.

Hamilton writes very nice folk rock songs, the way a 1,000 song writers do, but he, unlike most of his completion, he also wires them with dynamite and blows them sky high.