In a sparse 34 minutes, A Shut-In's Prayer switches tracks, tempos and narrators often enough to feel relatively fresh from start to finish.

The roominess and the variety are what make this album so interesting.

The band has crafted something surprising: a poignant, reflective hard-rock album that straddles the divide between '70s classic rock ambition and '90s alt-rock theatrics.

The EP's only weakness comes in the form of "City."

The result is the raw and crunchy folk record Total Dust.

The infectious beats and catchy hooks are still a driving force, but Lewis has abandoned the bedroom vibes to surge ahead with full-on amphetamine-induced vigor.

The Dirty Projectors are still fantastic weirdos making fantastically weird music, but Swing Lo Magellan humanizes them by letting you see through to their heartstrings.

For all of their individual, conflicting quirks, Miller et al. operate like some strange musical beast, spitting out hooks and devouring them with brute force.

More than ever he seems to accept his differences and embrace them, making an album that is more a solid work of art than anything previous.

A Place To Bury Strangers succeeds in one aspect: It produces music so hammering and explosively airy that it crumbles the very walls used to create such an echoed and amplified sound. It just fails to recognize that in doing so for almost 45-minutes straight, we begin to feel like we're getting buried alive under the rubble.

[Slaughterhouse is] a master's thesis of reverb, crafted by an electric orator who, more and more, finds the pithiest ways to worship the guitar as instrument, drug and weapon.

Positive Force will uplift you.

At this crossroads between excitement, adventure and melancholy, Gold Motel resides.

These songs seamlessly trickle from one to the next in a perfect collection of sounds, showcasing both complexity and musical depth in this mostly instrumental music.

Dry Land Is Not A Myth blows by in what feels like an instant, but it is so easily engrained into your memory, you'll find yourself humming it all day.

Polysick displays a nerdish devotion to subtleties, like creating rhythms without beats and overlaying field recordings under a mix.

The vision of Southern California terrain Barfod molds in Salton Sea seems strangely undead and haunting even at its most jubilant moments, creating a chilling sense of something epic and part-human.

While less in your face than his work with the Fresh And Onlys, the album stands its ground and ends on a powerful note.

On the whole, there is a lack of connection that makes it hard to qualify Synthetica as an entirely memorable album.

The tracks are truly hidden gems, kept from mass appraisal via DIY distribution methods in the '80s, home-recorded cassettes and vinyl. Vasicka and Peanut Butter Wolf's efforts here revive and catalog some truly infectious would-be synth classics.

Hot Chip has written an album that touches the many feelings on the spectrum of love, while staying true to the humorous and entertaining musical idiosyncrasies that the band has enlisted for the better part of a decade.

This is a fun, ambitious collection of songs that offers just as many snazzy aesthetic pleasures as it does dorm-room philosophy sessions.

Those looking for simple, safe rock probably won't like The Plot Against Common Sense. But if you want to think while you thrash, give this one a spin.

So this is the real Temper Trap: less fuzz, more grit.

This isn't a joyful album, but it's inviting and almost welcoming in ways that might surprise people who primarily associate the band with the alienating onstage antics of giant frontman Angus Andrew.

In the end, Oh No brings life back to Moore and his Dolemite legacy.

Working again with her loyal producer Richard Swift, they master what many think is impossible and maybe even contradictory; they create a serious and intellectual pop album.

If you're not paying attention, it becomes tough to tell if you've been listening to one really long song or three separate ones.

The result is a smoother, more mature sound that varies with each song evoking hints of soul, funk, old-school hip-hop and some dance music for fun.

The overall feeling of the record is dark, but tracks like "Hector" and "Blank Maps" offer a bit of light.

With this second solid Ladyhawke winner, she proves you can make them sing.

Kimbra's voice is strong, her beats are catchy, and after listening to the full 55-minute album, you're not quite sure what just happened, but you know you kind of liked it.

Despite the brainy, composer-like attention to detail and El-P's complicated lyrics, this is still music imbued with a bracing sense of physicality. It's great stomping music.

Despite its party-hard attitude, Natural History has a thoughtful, searching soul.

Palladino and Church may drown their sorrows in a pool of gloomy effects, but they still make even the most heartbreaking sentiments sound sweet.

It may have taken three years for Go! Pop! Bang! to see the light, but fortunately, in Rye Rye's case, she has only gotten better with age.

The unpredictable mix incites some strange transitions, occasionally cutting off promising grooves to the album's detriment ("Groundskeeper Rag," especially, peaks prematurely). But what Family Perfume lacks in momentum it makes up for in brevity.

A very pleasurable, punk-inspired listen. This is no-nonsense, fast-flying garage rock.

An unequivocally excellent record that never bores. If you've yet to explore this strangely intoxicating genre of music, I would suggest Sidi Toure's latest album as a perfect starting point: accessible enough for immediate appreciation, yet complex enough for repeat listens.

OFF! is like a perfectly executed kickflip: over before you know it, but immensely satisfying.

If the Big Sleep intended a record of 10 tracks designed explicitly to get listeners pumped, then the band can call these experiments a roaring success.

An album that, musically, strikes a gorgeous balance between restraint and cosmic expansion, but vocally suffers from just too much control.

Some might listen to Fear Fun and hear a man feeling sorry for himself, but with melodies so sweet and sentiments so comically self-loathing, this album won't suffocate you with sadness.

Despite the lack of direct emotional content in the shrouded lyrics, the music has an ache to it, a yearning that suggests a desire to connect but an inability to make a connection.

The energy levels provided by the quick guitar riffs vary per song, but Cheap Time manages to provide a heavy dose of pure punk dirtiness.

Many of the songs on Aloha Moon hint at '80s soft rock, with their delicate guitar and drumming, while still providing a contemporary dream-like quality.

Harmonicraft isn't just the best Torche release: It's a contender for one of the best loud rock releases of the year.

The chemistry is electric, but Hair's most rowdy, rewarding moments occur when Segall and Presley's respective genre sensibilities clash instead of compromise.

An album that's incredibly incendiary and challenging (while still entertaining).

Like a tour guide who occasionally gets lost in his own museum, Haldar's unbridled excitement about his subject matter can be both exhausting and infectious.

[Beware And Be Grateful expertly fuses] the complex rock of the band's early EPs with elegant, polished pop.

His luxuriant loop-based instrumentation on display is easy to lose yourself in, making your life seem, for just a moment, much more epic than it actually is.

The story [House of Baasa] is a mix of glee and despair, and it fits with this album, a venture into the bliss and torment of matters of the head and the heart.

From the first drum hits and piano chords of the opening title track, it's evident that this is a match made in black-light heaven.

Though the album overstays some of its freshness by the closing tracks, nearly everything Winston sings up to "Sister Wife" adds an inspired spin on common pop idioms.

Time Capsules II is that kind of album: a buffet of familiar confections designed for easy digestion, painstakingly dressed and seasoned to demand repeat consumption.

When it works, the noises are strange and exciting, like discovering a dead animal as a child, all over a danceable groove. When it doesn't, it just sounds like a drunken jam sesh over fucked up Casio drum loops.

Like any good exorcism, Year Of The Witch allows Ryff to share and shed what's haunting him.

Despite its psych-rock influences, the duo doesn't rely on a variety of instruments to convey the mood. Instead, the band doubles down on reverb, feedback, haunting vocals and doom guitar.

This record feels like a race to an unknowable destination.

Wagner has poured her soul into recordings that may seem too mature for the 23-year-old but highlight the talent that Wagner has at communicating difficult subjects with ease and forming truly compelling songs.

There are enough outside influences here-kraut, new wave, post-punk-that the album, for the most part, manages to mark itself as a smart, sleek dance record.

It's just a little too long and continuous to listen to in one setting.

Neatly countering the initial pedal-to-the-metal energy of "My Girl," "Sweet Dee" is a slow-burning sunset cruise that makes Tiger Talk's destination entirely worth the somewhat familiar journey.

Bursting Visions can at times feel like a record that emphasizes quantity over quality. Then again, this also makes it easy for pretty much everyone to find at least one song they like.

The perfect concoction of guitar riffs, synthesizer wails, the mullet, 1980s reverb and two awesome animals, the dinosaur and the walrus.

Rossen's sprawling pop coupled with his subtly personal lyrics gives the album a bittersweet flavor that makes for some very impressive moments.

The result is honed and sophisticated, unique yet smartly referential.

It's less bedroom, more band-centered than his previous work, but the music still feels uncomplicated.

Acousmatic Sorcery is an occasionally iridescent collection of songs, but at the end of the day it feels too tasteful, too self-consciously curated.

On an album so concerned with straddling the invisible borders between the material and the spiritual, Wexler's disembodied voice becomes most powerful when seeping through space like a ghost in the machine, mysterious and ubiquitous as the existential questions he sings to life.

Even with Mixed Emotions' tumultuous gestation, Emm and Cohen have overcome, with a lean, lighthearted LP of which Toto would be proud.

Earle's tendency to wander might be more of a problem if the accompanying music wasn't so intimate and alluring.

The band gathered its instruments for a retreat/recording session at the converted 1896 church Dreamland in Woodstock and produced a more concrete, rock-leaning sound.

Mathambo is both voracious and omnivorous. This leads to a diverse and exciting listen.

Zoo is a bleak record, but through prolonged exposure it can begin to feel like a place you want to stay.

Even though Yellow Ostrich succeeds at creating catchy, clean-sounding indie rock, that style doesn't dominate the album.

One Second Of Love is a remarkably bold move for the young singer, and when it clicks, the results are irresistible.

Although somewhat too sleepy at times, the album's journey of personal admittance uses the instruments strategically to ignite little bursts of hope and newness.

Although the majority of the record is devoted more to synths and vocals than to beats and bass, the sound of Personality speaks loud and clear.

Sonically, it's on par with the rest of his discography: meaty instrumentation, multi-layered vocals, winks and smirks.

Jonquil excels at frolicking, but the band can also play it more subdued.

Like the cosmos itself, Interstellar is a grower.

This is a record that reminds us of one of music's most overlooked, modest--but perhaps, most sensible--aesthetic couplings.

Grimes has come into a cleaner, more distinct version of her IDM self, albeit one still influenced by Aphex Twin, TLC and Enya.

I Am Gemini marks a brave and experimental turn in a new direction, but at the same time it's a nod to the old-in the best and least wallowing way.

Not every song/experiment sticks, but there's enough sheer courage and musical inventiveness to merit back-to-back listens (and alienate swaths of hip-hop purists).

Through the clever synchronization of spaced-out vocals and rambling drums, Poliça dispels psychological trauma in an easy-to-swallow, electro-pop pill.

Young And Old is a confident, solid indie pop album that builds on the band's previous sound.

[A] rock-inspired electro-alien world that Lindstrøm has carefully crafted.

In an increasingly bleak post-recession climate, jagged and somber post-punk seems a rather fitting lens, and Prinzhorn Dance School has mastered its execution.

The simplicity of the instrumentation is what perfects the record.

Paralytic Stalks isn't an Of Montreal album stuffed with steakhouse jingles. But therein lies the charm.

Every track on Tramp provides a singularly rewarding experience in one way or another. Only the album's pacing weakens its impact as a whole.

The guys are able to transform the tangible aspects of their journey into sounds that turn the listening experience into a traveling experience.

A clean, laid-back production and ambitious lyrical themes.

This urgent need to resist easy classifications can make the album difficult and obtuse at times, but the rewards are plentiful.