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

Love Sign escapes almost all of the sophomore LP pitfalls.

This is part of Arcade Dynamics' charm: The release is pop-friendly with few tracks making the three-minute mark, until the fuzz of ambient outro "Porch Projector" kicks in.

And things simmer along just fine like that right ’til the end with 3 Seconds To Cross, a breezy, snare rim-tapping rumination on sunny California.

The instrumentation on each song, though, is rich and brooding, weaving a distinguishable sound that suitably ties Apokalypsis together.

Smith is a ham, to be sure, but listen past the surface and you'll hear him grappling with themes of isolation, frustration and heartbreak.

Its [closing track Close Company] guitars are huge, its drums are pounding, and it sums up the record perfectly: dark, sexy and gargantuan.

Its suicidal lyrics and aggressive guitar riffs won't disappoint current fans and will more than likely win over a bunch of kids from the Odd Future side.

The girls have made strides in bookending the album with tracks that are longer than six minutes-quite different from its usual two to three minutes-but the next step is to use the extended time to explore what else they could do with it.

Where Tim Cohen’s vocals should soar, scream or sink low, they remain at a consistent monotone, rendering his occasionally poetic lyrics into lukewarm sentiments that do not invite further investigation.

On It's A Corporate World, the band's debut LP, Zott and Epstein are ready to let you step a little further into their joyous sonic world.

The Postelles is remarkably polished and consistent for a debut. If you're looking for something fresh, you'd do well to look elsewhere.

This duo continues to develop without forfeiting the high-energy antics that have earned them such a reputable DIY name.

Taiga marks Danilova’s own internal struggle to continue to carve out her own musical path. And so far, so good.

An album that uses so much in so little time, Old Friends has everything to offer.

Whether you’re going on four years steady or trolling OkCupid nightly, Exhibitionists will hit you like a guilty post-dream high.

This new album of old ideas hits hardest at its softest, most melancholy moments.

This record isn't as energetic and peppy as previous efforts, but don't confuse moodiness with lifelessness.

If you can get past the (New York-ishly cynical?) temptation to corner this band into an indie frame, you can revel in the depth and intricacies that the band has managed to unearth from and on Manhattan.

There’s no doubt that Royal Bangs are fully capable of splicing a broader set of influences into their quixotic mix, and Brass offers several great glimpses into a sonic evolution in progress. It’s just a shame that the metamorphosis isn’t quite complete.

On her fifth album, she discovers a new direction--and sounds all the better for it.

Maybe Vampire Weekend is African-inspired indie rock and Fool's Gold is indie rock-inspired Afro-pop, but it's hard to deny their similarities.

Haze proves that she can write, rap and sing really well.

Listening to Galore kind of feels like growing up, as it perfectly balances a combo of bittersweet nostalgia, hopeful optimism and an impending sense of something bigger and better to come.

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.

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

Despite V’s evidence of growth and energy throughout the first half of the album, excitement drains during the latter half. Kastlander’s vocals are still emotionally pinpricking on each song, consistently dwelling on the subject matter of relationship/post-relationship difficulties on tracks like Full and Be Here Now. Eventually though, just like hearing a friend complain about their ex for three months straight after the split, it gets tiresome.

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.