The disc's winning blend of warm organic tones and smart atmospheric touches, recalls Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball--and could also be the breakthrough for Merritt that Ball was for Harris.

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

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.

LaVette is in incredibly fine form, squeezing every amount of emotional resonance out of every track, her voice a well burnished, emotionally charged instrument that she plays like a master.

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

The songwriting ... takes a bit of a dip on this one. Oh sure, the first few songs are pretty good but that's it, just pretty good.

The group's strongest, most challenging and most cohesive offering in years.

Occupied with the Unspoken is a headphone trip that ultimately proves to be an enjoyable listen in spite of the complexity of its craftsmanship.

[Once An Awesome Wave] maintains a steady jog and never quite sprints into action... Nevertheless, a creative effort from this new band, Alt-J shows promise and proves they can create hauntingly catchy melodies from irregular rhythms.

Meat and Bone stands as quite possibly the band's best album to date. The Explosion breaks everything down to its root and reconstructs it all in a perfect way; it should show a generation of cool kids that may have missed him the first time around that Jon Spencer is among garage rock's main guitar slingers.

This follow-up is even better & louder, on par with the dizzying heights of her old band.

These eight songs are indeed everything you'd expect from this reconfigured version of Comets on Fire with Chasny at the controls. It's a purely transcendental synthesis of heavy folk meditation and interstellar overdrive.

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.

The finished product is a beautifully fluid fusion of dub, jazz and micro-house zone-outs that continues to exemplify Oswald's two-decade strong aptitude as one of the great masters of repetitive groove theory.

With its live wet vocal production, bleaker-than-black lyrical mien and varied musical layers, the album could be one of the Minnesotan folk singer's finest ever, a richly diverse and dire epic revolving around the burning suns of love, death, truths and lies with only two weak songs in the bunch.

Silver Age is another peak in a career full of them, and it's due to the quality of the material Mould uses to construct the suit, rather than the classic cut of the design.

O' Be Joyful would be their resulting--and across-the-board winning--entrée to celebrity chefdom.

The songs on Palindrome Hunches are certainly pretty and play perfectly as background music for a variety of endeavors (washing dishes, vacuuming, etc.) but not much on here really stands out and catches your attention.

The music on this remarkable record creeps up on you, and subtleties abound; with Burns' vocals mic'd very close and much of the instrumental flourishes occurring deep in the mix, it's an intimate affair.

Fans of his [Drive-By] Truckers tunes will find much to love here.

Unlike its meandering, esoteric predecessor, the gorgeous Under the Pale Moon is an affair more focused in thought and sincere in song.

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

On Sun, Chan Marshall is so sure of herself that she's prepared to confront not just romance's injustice, but also the world's.

Live at Billy Bob's Texas is proof enough that he's still living up to his rep as one of the original Outlaws of Country, sitting firmly beside Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings.

While Rowe's deep-baritone delivery conveys intimacy, his lyrics are a grab-bag of overwrought, secondhand images.

The Midsummer Station isn't a terrible album; it just sounds as if big studio influence overshadows much of the reliable metaphors and creativity that made songs like "Fireflies" a hit.

[The Seer is] everything for which Swans stands, wrapped up in one intense package.

How good is Antibalas the album, the band's fourth, on its own merits? The answer is: pretty good, but not as great as its inspiration.

Overall, the tinny, sterile production (there is nothing lush about the sounds on In Limbo, nor is there supposed to be) and the fresh take on psychedelic and indie rock sounds pretty fine.

I was kind of hoping for more hooks, but sometimes forget that every record can't be Singles Going Steady. When the White Wires release a greatest hit collection that might be just what I'm looking for, but in the meantime, WWIII will do.

There were many musical spirits in the room when White and his Spacebomb band went to recording the seven farmhouse-soul spirituals found on Big Inner, but what ultimately renders this record truly special is the band's ability to synthesize all these elements into something that is uniquely their own.

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

From the first few notes, it's clear that the duo's signature blend of worldbeat rhythms and ancient melodies with rich electronic atmospheres is still potent, if leaning toward the synthesized side of DCD's lush sound.

America, is the most fully formed and thought-out of his albums, perfectly joining his concept of a free-form punk mentality with classically influenced structure and arrangement.

Simply put, Tracer is a lovely, melodious, engaging work of electronic music that will play just as well in the bedroom as it will on the dance floor.

Shakedown is less about method and more about attitude.

No one's asking Jackson to bare his soul. Still, there's a surface-y, writing-exercise quality to many of these songs. (I Can't Get No) Stevie Jackson doesn't really give us much Stevie Jackson, just some clever jottings and puns and tunes he's scratched out in a notebook.

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.

The music that survived war, immigration and poverty flourishes even among the hipsters, a happy ending for a tale of struggle.

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.

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.

Jamal continues to spin gold from the bench of his baby grand with Blue Moon.

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

Live in Japan is more valuable as a historical artifact than as a concert recording one is likely to return to again and again.

Researching the Blues is a goddamn gem, crackling with energy, that totally celebrates the pure bliss and joy that rock 'n' roll can, and should be. In short, it's everything that you were hoping it would be.

Copper Blue is essential.

Sadly the momentum's not maintained once DeCicca and company quickly slip back into their plaintive posturing.

Those two bumps aside ["Cruel Intentions" and "I Should Have Stayed in Bed"], it's overall a solid album from a band that's honestly been missed.

Playin' in Time With the Deadbeat is the right kind of challenge, its knotty twists and cranky attitude adding to the noisy, visceral thrills.

This Ain't Chicago does exactly what it's supposed to do: make you wish you were there.

Another solid step in their ongoing evolution, These United States constitutes a genuine declaration of independence.

Some of the names here will already be known by fans, including White, Charles, Gentry, Dale Hawkins, Link Wray and Larry Jon Wilson; while others, such as Dennis The Fox, Gritz, Cherokee, Jim Ford and John Randolph Marr, may only be familiar to collectors. It's all great, though.

With its near-perfect balance of power and tunefulness, Carved Into Stone rumbles with tracks that practically define heavy metal.

Twenty-five for the Rest of Our Lives, their latest, is by far their best to date.

There are no boundaries here to be broken, but there's clear indication of new-found confidence that obviously serves her well.

Cancer4Cure is very much a window shattering Brooklyn rap record in every sense... [Meline is] busting loose some of the sharpest darts of his life.

Yellow & Green documents the evolution of Baroness from great metal band to great band.

With their latest offering Carry Me Back, the banjos are ringin', the mandolins are singing at the speed of a hummingbird's wings, the fiddles are sawed upon with vigor, and the fog of the Tennessee hills calls to all of us.

The steady driving "Mulholland Drive" and the Roy Orbison-worthy "Here Comes My Man" are among the band's best and could have easily come off their breakthrough 2008 release The '59 Sound.

For the Glory Fires, it's all about "Righteous, Ragged Songs," and Bains and the band deliver that in spades on There is a Bomb in Gilead.

What we have here is another excellent Chris Smither album, reason enough for celebration.

It captures the band's rambunctious, not-especially-reverent approach to Ethio-jazz.

This is a just a great sounding record. In truth; just great, period.

Each three-minute zinger is an aptly kilned piece so crossly pollinated, it should be studied.

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

The the three original albums -- I Just Can't Stop It, Wha'ppen? and Special Beat Service, from '80, '81 and '82 respectively, still hold together well....The Complete Beat offers completists an ideal opportunity to ditch that well-worn vinyl and get in the groove with a compendium that puts all the music in one place.

A magical must.

Never before has there been a band that has brought all those elements [Crazy Horse, Television, Quicksilver Messenger Service and The Dream Syndicate] together in a manner so crafted and explosive as these kids do with their fevered compound of ragged rock and summertime roll.

To drag out a well worn cliché, The Best of Quantic is the proverbial embarrassment of riches, but boy is that true. This is just a feast of plenty for anyone interested at all in smart, sophisticated, well conceived and recorded global music in the 21st century.

Excellent.

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.

Everything is pushed harder, faster and into more extreme corners on Unsound, and, remarkably, the band seems to get tighter and more impactful as things become more difficult.

A treasure chest of riches that provides considerable new perspective on the band's processes and progress through the years.

Another cohesive set that plums the same territory songwriters have spent centuries on, - that Mandell can still rivet our attention is testament to a great songstress.

This current incarnation of Swans swim across the salty sea of the group's three-decade strong catalog, executing a balance of grind and grace that casts a new light on old classics.

Skelethon ranks among Aesop's greatest work yet.

[Swing Lo Magellan] is instantly likeable. It makes perfect sense, but unravels into nonsense and complexity on second glance.

Rhythm and Repose [is] the superb solo outing from Glen Hansard.

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.

If Laswell hasn't made his masterpiece--and it's easy to argue that he has--clearly he's come close.

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.

With nearly each track including a mesmerizing hook or chorus that slowly permeates your subconscious - "Clone" and "Breathing Underwater" leap out from the pack in this regard - Synthetica is a solid album.

Do Things has a few missteps, but May just keeps smiling and charging forward.

Segall pushes things towards 11.

Lumineers is an album that successfully weaves a homespun, roots-folk feel with poetic prowess.

No surprises, but impeccably predictable.

Across eleven cuts Parallel Thought utilize their deep knowledge of Del's Elektra years to weave a beautifully updated pastiche of early '90s throwback grooves.

Jukebox the Ghost proudly wear its pop influences on their sleeves and quite frankly don't care whether you like those influences or not.

A Place to Bury Strangers hadn't yet reached the point where it needed reinvention, but giving its sound a few well-considered tweaks pushes its creative momentum forward even faster.

One of the best records of the year.

Pop elements ensure that Musostics works pleasantly enough as background music, but it is also complicated enough to reward more concentrated listening.

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.

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.

Jackson's love for Ellington but unwillingness to play it safe puts The Duke much closer in spirit to its inspiration than rote copies of originals would ever have done.

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.

An exciting and distinct new spin on the dreampop revival.

Surprisingly sedate for a final blow-out, Throw It to the Universe sends The Soundtrack of Our Lives down the road to retirement with beauty, class and grace.

An 18-track adventure into the joyous heart of classic African funk as colorful as the jacket it is dressed in.