The point of Alright is not to churn out hit singles but to create an experience for its listeners, to create a concept album. Lindstrøm has successfully done so!

Grace & Lies works best when it lays it on thick - opting for textures over latticework -and is least successful when it strips back and relies on its acoustic-folk undercarriage. Thankfully, the former predominates.

Ultimately, Dagger Beach isn’t the easiest listen--“bewildering” and “bizarre” are perhaps the better descriptions here--but for sheer daring and intrigue, Vanderslice finds fruition.

Somewhere between the somber and the swagger are the expansive and loosely-narrative “King of Cleveland” and “Famous Friends Along the Coast,” which both play like cinematic vignettes. Rich with imagery, resonance and hooks, they feel less esoteric than the rest of the album. But these songs are relatable and immediate, and lend a groundedness to the 12-track collection.

While the intricacies of Dreams Say, View, Create, Shadow Leads could be exhausting to a casual listener, those with attentive ears will be enamored by the myriad sonic nuances present in the album.

Black Radio would have been more successful if the music used some of jazz's subtle spontaneity in the arrangements instead of satisfying itself by going for the easy laidback vibe.

Most of the record finds organic urban grooves, frosts them with sweet pop-soul hooks and serves them up hot and fluffy.

Lung of Love come[s] across like another breath of fresh air.

Though some lyricless segments blur together, a few stand out.

Melodic to a fault, this new offering continues a trajectory begun two decades back when as a folkie-turned-rocker he first plied his charms and initiated a brand that never ceases to satisfy.

Blistering, incisive and occasionally even surprising, Endless Scroll is anything but dull.

Clark's talent is undeniable, but only when he's not flogging it half to death.

The quality [on End of Daze] is solid to great.

For a moment or two here, Quilt sounds like a lost Pretty Things track, but as mentioned earlier, this is really their own unique creation. And it needs to be heard right now.

The Hospitality of yore does appear on some of the tracks, but it’s clear the group has pushed itself towards newer territories which, while a little enigmatic at first, suit them perfectly.

Their music, those influences intact, circles around a classic rock genre, but without any mediocre redundancy or artificiality.

This is the merde, and essential for anyone interested in the history of alternative dance and 80s electronic and industrial musics.

Well-constructed, sophisticated, relaxing, and pleasant.

Let's Go Eat The Factory proves that the pioneers of lo-fi still do it best.

The real nuances come out when this music is heard closely on headphones, but even when they blare out of speakers, there is something alluring to grab the ear and pull you in.

Like finding a paisley underground in a rain forest, listening to Noctuary will alter your perceptions and give you a chocolate brain melt in a most satisfying way.

The strong creative flow guiding this record indicates that the band’s artistic direction wasn’t solely the vision of Smith.

With IX, Trail of Dead consolidates its stance as one of the ‘aughties’ most consistently interesting prog bands.

These Merritt wonder-tonics may not curl your hair or cure any ailment, but they act as a salve to a multitude of human conditions. Best to stock up and be prepared.

Harding's adept at melding a simple slice of life with irresistible refrains, and that's what allows The Sound of His Own Voice to soar ever so sweetly.

There’s an elusive aura that surrounds this set, suggesting Lord Huron will never pry its door open entirely. Then again, that’s what makes this outfit so fascinating…and possibly so essential.

Good as this is, it could be that much better.

There are no hedonistic celebrations at the level of Wild Onion’s “Strawberry Smoothie” here, as many of the tempos have downshifted to soulful; nor do any of the hooks sink quite as deeply as “Mirror of Time” did.

For much of the album, disparate elements come together in complicated ways that are cerebral, sensual and spiritual all at once. Nicely done.

After 14 years they show no signs of slowing down and you know what you don't want them too because they haven't even come close to sucking. It's a win win for all of us.

It’s actually a great record once you give up all preconceived notions of what to expect.

While not his best effort to date, there are still some standout songs on this one.

With breathy singing and lush production as the connecting skein, Stupid Things That Mean the World puts Bowness firmly on the same level as David Sylvian, Peter Gabriel and other masters of adapting high art to accessible pop.

A few of the tunes seem to want to ape the front cover of waterfalls and Jesus-long hair ("Sore Eyes," "Locusts" etc.) but most of Almanac is able to bring a love of the past into the right now and (usually) make it seem effortless.

Songs like “Preludes,” “Tracking Shots,” “Tangletown” and “Rescue Blues” find his pliable vocals emitting that certain verve and swagger.

Syd Arthur avoids any whiff of trendiness and just gets down to the business of writing and performing timeless music on its second record Sound Mirror.

Every Step's A Yes is a stylistic mish-mash with a few notable gems worthy of downloading.

Essential Tremors hides some of the bands’ strongest songs in years. You just have to dig for them.

Everything [on Dismania] has weight. And makes just about anything (other than the examples cited above) that's been calling itself Retro/Garage/Psych Rock sound, suddenly, rather tame.

Those unawares of Deer Tick’s five preceding efforts ought to make every effort to catch up. Likewise, those who appreciate the band’s quality and consistency will find Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 to be a perfect pairing, as compatible as their titles imply.

The songs convey a lot of deep ideas without resorting to flowery prose. In fact the words are often fairly straightforward which ends up making the whole project hit a little deeper than initially anticipated.

Falling Off the Sky is a fresh start for the band that many of us thought should have dominated the 1980s. Clearly, they still have the chops to dominate the 2010's.

They ply the same general furrow as American contemporaries like Wooden Shjips, though with a tighter, more consciously limited focus.

Quever’s songs are meant to provide sweet succor, not catharsis, and in that Life Among the Savages proves to be pretty good company.

Benson’s created an album that stands as his best thus far, a vivid, emphatic encapsulation of pure pop coupled with unabashedly enthusiastic execution.

John Hiatt has now released over one third of his career recordings since the year 2000, and seems likely to continue to make good music for some time to come.

It is a flavorful fusion as unique as the Yugoslavian Spomenik that graces the cover of his eponymous full-length debut on Fat Possum - and one that stands apart from the seemingly endless barrage of home-recorded acts who have posted their wares on Blogger, Bandcamp and Tumblr these days.

While the lyrics here do tend to come off as pretentious at times, the sentiment is still admirable and actually pays off on songs like “March in September.”

Without sounding anything like Pet Sounds, Seeds We Sow indicates Buckingham has absorbed Wilson's lessons well.

Nature Noir feels like it’s got a bit more substance and structure, a natural foundation under the otherworldly sheen.

At its most affecting What We Saw from the Cheap Seats is a sad and touching record, filled with love and the memory of .... Parts of [the album] feel either disposable or a revisiting of old ground.

It’s that free-flowing vibe that helps make this seem more like an overdue reunion for the home town crowd as much as any attempt at a polished performance.

The results meld as mood music of the highest variety--dense yet delicate, edgy and yet elegiac.

Like it or not, the synths are here to stay, and The Minimal Wave Tapes Volume Two adds several more fascinating pieces to the puzzle.

What you might miss in Fake Yoga, if you’ve been around for a while, are the mordant, Wilco-ish ballads that dotted Hesitation Eyes.... Still Fake Yoga is a very solid album and much more compelling than 2010’s Bible Stories.

This certainly seems like his most accessible effort yet, a sign perhaps that after years of being regarded as an odd man out, he’s ready to find that balance between talent and tenacity. Well done, old boy. Well done.

The mixtape of emotions Trentemoller has produced on Lost is proof of his virtuosity.

There's a sadness, a backwards-looking air to Tarnished Gold that's new. Once the Sparks' hallucinatory trippery signaled youth's endless possibilities. Now their songs, even the new ones, are filtered through a golden, dust-moted, late afternoon light.

The album in a nut shell? The Grand Theatre, Volume Two is the soundtrack to a chaotic night at the tavern followed by clarity the morning after--melodiously rowdy, then harmoniously depressed.

At times, Wand does become something of a scavenger hunt for dedicated fans.

Once again, we have a very good recording from a very talented singer, songwriter, and performer.

The experimental sonic world Dosh creates is beautiful and he has created an eerily enchanting one with Milk Money.

Though his songwriting skills have rarely come to the fore, the quality of the material here--all of which he wrote, save a pair of covers--makes these tunes first rate.

Hearing “Love Is the Drug,” “Virginia Plain” and “The Bogus Man” this way embalms the material. And many lose a key dimension without vocals.

The set eschews songs in any traditional sense, opting instead for murky soundscapes characterized by minimal piano and acoustic guitar, suspended strings and a dense overlay of synths and drums.

All in all, United States demonstrates McLagan’s allegiance to a pure pop mantra.

A terrific beginning, Little Windows offers its audience a perfect view.

On Oni Pond, their fifth, is quite possibly the closest they will ever come to being considered de-cluttered.

While this isn’t an earth shattering album, it is a solid one which serves as a reminder of what a talent she can be when she decides to get in touch.

It could easily pass for one of the group's previous efforts. Anyone familiar with the Weakerthans' catalog will realize immediately that's a good thing.

This album balances that joy and sadness perfectly and powerfully.

Being almost (there’s that qualifier again) conventional, Take It Like a Man may not hit the same highs for fans as White’s more seminal work, but it’s a solid set of songs given engaging performances.

With Instinct, Niki and the Dove have made an album that will surely resonate with the American crowds already grooving to the likes of Hot Chip, Passion Pit and Twin Shadow while providing Sub Pop with a whole new planet of sound to colonize.

The problem is that Pearl Jam at this point is just repeating itself--or others.

The result is an album of uncommon strength, not necessarily due to the individuals involved, but rather because of the sheer force and fury of the unified thrust. Filthy Friends never waver from this mission, making this one Invitation well worth heeding.

The preponderance of the material here creates its own world, on its own terms, and beckons you to go inside. And you will.

Good Mood Fool takes several listens before it’s possible to fully appreciate its full potential.

Allegedly a bubblegum record, in reality this is Collins’ take on psychedelic pop, with twinkling keyboards, polite guitars and a heretofore unimagined Collins croon that could charm the panties off a lesbian punk rocker.

Peggy Sue's Acrobats is one of the most scattered, schizophrenic, soul questioning--and beautiful and best records of the year.

Seasons on Earth is like a wry, forgiving smile set to music, its pleasures veined with melancholy, its ruefulness buoyed by hope.

Despite his delicate--make that dainty--designs, Henson also knows how to set a fanciful mood, albeit one that’s singularly subdued.

This album feels more like a curio of a bygone era rather than an overlooked gem.

Besides embracing improved recording and production, the album stands out in their catalog for containing a strong roster of outstanding songs, not a 98-pound weakling in the bunch.

With Holly, Waterhouse really comes into his own, branding himself as a retro crossover crooner whose immediate intent appears intended to instigate a ‘60s soul revival.

Laid back beats, a high pitched effect methodically layered within the effects, vocals, bring in the bridge then loop the beat. Arguably this is the pattern to all electronic music yet there is not much variety within this paradigm; luckily there are enough winning moments on Flume to make you forgive this.

No Age has made an album devoid of joy, yet I couldn’t help but smile when listening to it.

She shows herself self-conscious in a good way on songs like "Little But Loud" where she happily shows off her stuff off while name checking Led Zep's most famous tune.

K7 is doing its best to keep the tradition alive, and Foals' contribution is a curatorial coupe des grace.

Ultimately, The Body Wins serves up an unusual brew, one that spans the expanse between a perky bounce ("Mannequin Woman") and haunting circumstance ("Hooray for Love"). Both eerie and intriguing.

Taken as a whole, Kykeon seems more cohesive, less add-x-to-y, than the self-titled debut.

A more subdued release, Happy To You is nonetheless quite mesmerizing in its methodical and complex layers of music.

Filled with some genuinely memorable moments The Helio Sequence show that if a band is open to experimentation and letting the light of the new day shine in, fascinating things can truly happen.

Though Thompson remains in the same contemplative state lyrically, In the Pit of the Stomach is a great follow up to Walls and unveils an orchestral maturity form the four gents.

Lion is certainly king of its own dark and sublime, concrete industrial jungle. It roars strong and, at times, purrs in all the right places.

Van Halen have found their dazzle without a hassle.

Nothing may not be particularly imaginative, but it’s so competent at its craft it’s hard to imagine any fan of the style complaining.

The pair keeps the door unlocked for the curious, but doesn’t put out tea and cakes in welcome, either.

Women & Work finds the Memphis band at complete ease with their mix of '70s outlaw country and plenty of punk rock attitude and swagger, making it easily the most consistently solid release in their already enviable cannon of music.