TV On The Radio has become less animalistic, less apocalyptic, less conflicted -- and more loving, more comfortable, more soulful.

Thrice's latest, Major/Minor, is one of those elusive, much-needed types of LPs: urgent, aching and filled with heaviness-like pouring-liquid-steel-into-a-cast-iron-mug-and-chugging-it-straight heavy.

It's a real relief, then, to hear METZ's self-titled debut, a tight set of 10 gut-punch punk songs that, in 30 minutes, delivers the type of catharsis we've been lacking.

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.

It's too cavernous and intangible to dance to but too wired for relaxation.

Pallett’s vocals that move from soft quiver to full tenor on the title track. And when paired with his simple pop tendencies, the intricacies are easy to absorb. All you have to do is listen.

An audacious compilation of carefully arranged instrumentals under reflective lyrics.

With its multiple parts, its recurring motifs and its thematic hutzpah "USA" isn't easy to parse or process, but it's not impenetrable; Deacon remains committed to pop forms and rock songwriting despite his concert-hall inclinations.

Floating Coffin sees Dwyer and company pulling off another successful paradigm shift, a step toward the sinister but with ample amounts of the flower-power charm that made them such favorites among psych snobs in the first place.

Clash Battle Guilt Pride sees Polar Bear Club's likable mix of working-class suburban punk and arena rock getting glossier production.

You can enjoy Salad Days for its unadorned flow and easygoing weirdness, or you can stop, reflect and be moved by its fresh honesty. It’s worthwhile either way.

While Fade's sleepy charms can appear slight when compared to the canonical totems in the band's back catalog, it's best to remember that this is a record about serenity, endurance and mortality.

A bright artist displaying skill and youthful eagerness--no shtick.

Earl’s skills are incontestable, but at times, it feels like he has nothing to prove. Doris could have resulted in one big shrug fest, if it weren’t for the ferocity in Earl’s bars--which is probably all the leverage he needs.

Piñata might be long, but it moves fast.

There might appear to be a hodge-podge mish-mash of genres here, with artist credits ranging from U.K. funk producer Lil Silva to hip-hop’s heady Ghostpoet (who’s Season Change with Doucoura is another album stand-out), but the blending of these somewhat disparate sounds is seamless.

This is why Blue Rider is so enjoyable: even while it pulls you in, you’ll still feel like you’re listening to it alone. That might sound like an aloof move by Cale, but it’s really just an expression of that feeling that comes with being en route.

Familiars‘ ultimately succeeds in delivering the third consecutive full-length gem from the Antlers.

While it may not be a distinct step forward creatively, the blue-collared Allentown, PA, quartet has managed another solid effort that maintains its edge.

Though her lyrics are incoherent, Barwick tells a story on this album that is up for interpretation depending on the listener as if Barwick created the music just for her.

From Africa With Fury: Rise is a solid sampling of Afrobeat, and if Kuti's goal is to show that his father's influence was not wasted on him, he succeeds brilliantly.

While the record might have benefited from some more discrimination on the cutting room floor, it's still a focused, complete record and a pleasurable listen.

Blake’s best moments on Overgrown occur when he finds that balance between the upbeat hip-hop rhythms and the down-tempo acoustics that so brilliantly parallel his voice.

While frontwoman Jehnny Beth’s theatrics take up most of the listener’s attention, it’s the rhythmic duo of drummer Fay Milton and bassist Ayse Hassan that keeps the band on track

Despite the length of the album, it’s gratifying to cup your hands over your eyes and squint into Vile’s self-effacing and self-reflexive world. There’s something invigorating about hearing a mind loop back on itself in constant pursuit of a question it never even knew it asked.

In between the tape hiss, the nature sounds, the subtle reverb, the sighs, it becomes clear that Bad Vibes has a soul.

The album is deceptively simple, but underneath the easy-listening vibe lies a fascinating medley of genres and musical references.

This album is clearly not one you would want to put on in the background of your next party. In every aspect (its forms, melodies, instrumentation, etc.) it is a challenging and engaging hour of music.