If you set aside some uninspired, cryptic-as-poetic moody fantasy lyrics (and a few forgettable songs truly as slight as whispers), Becoming a Jackal reveals a hidden stash of imminently memorable melodies.

It’s awful and overwhelmingly loud — but there’s also a soaring quality to the melody that establishes itself amid the clangor and noise. That’s the curious, nearly undecidable quality in The Crying Out of Things. It’s full of ugly volume and rage. But there is a terrible beauty in many of the tracks, an affect that expands underneath the ugliness.

The Shepherd’s Dog is a step forward for Iron and Wine in many ways. The only moments where it falters are where the tonal characteristics gesture toward the past. When it shines, however, The Shepherd’s Dog’s clever songwriting and creative instrumentation makes for the most complete record Beam has ever recorded.

For the uninvested outsider (neither lover nor hater), it's distinctively spooky background music with a few satisfyingly jarring surprises, nothing to get terribly worked up about. For Patton's large army of obsessive pupils, it's an essential document of the Master at his most conceptually obsessive.

Though a solid and promising outing, Wavves isn’t a revelatory record. It fits nicely into the "scene," however vague that semblance is these days.

It's striking how well the gypsy sound fits with older material, but even so, the best song on Alegrias was written specifically for the album.

If you can get past the unintentionally risible title, this new collection of songs from the Austin-based dark hardcore band is quite good. The music is convincingly pissed.

The record’s oversized persona feels strange because these sounds don’t owe that much to the twang or crate-digging excavations that built Romweber’s reputation.

The weird and promising thing is that it works without ever feeling natural. The actual coexistence of the earnest and the smoove stops being so striking after a while, but the best songs on Rules don’t let you forget there is one.

For most artists, this album would be a significant achievement--but we've come to expect more from Massive Attack.

These Audion recordings thrive on nervous energy, sounding like the twitchy mumblings of a speed freak at their most hyperactive.

A lighter listen, enjoyable, but without the depth and drama that marks Tyler’s better work.

If Rook is as ambitious as they feel they can be without adding excess, then that's a good tradeoff, but their sound right now fits them like a pair of shoes that are a size too small.

It’s good where it has to be good and it hits the notes it’s supposed to, but other than that it’s tough to find Furr inspiring in any way, especially with such a specifically backwards-looking strategy employed.

The result is a solid debut that immediately screams Abba, disco and “guilty pleasure” for the pre-ironic high school kids who don’t realize they can play football and still get crazy on the dance floor to their parents’ wedding soundtrack.

On Glass, the Sea and Cake make music that’s as beguiling as ever, while displaying an odd sense of humor and implying that their best collection of sounds may still lie ahead.

Wilderness has a few disposable songs: the second half in particular drags on a little bit as different tracks become pretty much indistinguishable. However, the downtime and background amidst moments of appeal channels the spirit of ’70s AM radio pretty accurately.

Architecture in Helsinki delivers complex, dynamic composition and arrangement in a package that, while not universally digestible, is entertaining for all.

These songs have a dream-like, airy quality, despite the genuine rock fire power that Why Bonnie brings to the game.

The best moments on Appia Kwa Bridge stand up to anything he's ever done, and while it purposely breaks no new ground, there's something to be said for sticking to what you do best.

It's not Segall's best, but Slaughterhouse sits near the top of the heap of loud, ignorant party garage.

The only real downside to Louden Up Now is the surprising amount of filler surrounding the meaner cuts.

Still Life seems mostly solid, presenting evidence of talent, taste and potential, but not quite pushing things over the top.

Basically, if you hate one track, sorry boutcha. If you love any of them, though, you are going to love them all, unconditionally.

There are listeners that will be drawn to and make much of the brightest moments on The Enduring Spirit: the breezy string work at the beginning and in the middle section of “Will of Whispers”; the guitar tone and most theatrical moments in “Servants of Possibility,” which may put some in the mind of Steve Howe, c. 1971; the long slide through melodic atmospherics in the second half of “The Enduring Spirit of Calamity.” This reviewer prefers the tougher stuff.

Coming Out of the Fog is quite a good album, but it contains no real surprises.

While aesthetically they are rather progressive (in indie rock or pop terms), conceptually and symbolically there is a lot lacking, and that this conflict drives a lot of what is interesting in their music.

Repo is likeable for all the right reasons. That the band hasn’t challenged themselves or their audience to find new ones is the album’s chief drawback.