The slow roll-out of singles over the past few months leading up to its release makes Product hard to consider as a singular cohesive package, but as a primer on SOPHIE, it's as good as it gets, a snapshot of an exciting artist whose tightrope walk between sweet and scary, pop and avant-garde, has yielded some of the best singles of the past few years.

With all the memories, both good and bad, unearthed on this album, Best Blues finds Small Black holding their composure, even when it seems like it'll be a total bummer.

With Junun, Shye Ben Tzur, Jonny Greenwood and the Rajasthan Express succeed in creating a textured and energetic collection of songs that transcend genre and the generalizations often used when describing non-Western music. This is music to be embraced and celebrated.

GEMS' only shortcoming are their occasionally cheesy, melodramatic lyrics, and when Usher's intermittent vocal contributions sound like tired grumbles, working against GEMS' aesthetic and Pitts stylized vocal tendencies. Otherwise, Kill The One You Love is an undeniable success.

While some may miss the soul and jazz chops of last year's collaborative Piñata, it's safe to say his solo risks have largely paid off.

All of Something is a unique fusion of sounds that cements Sports' songwriting as a compelling mix of impressive and inventive.

The Incredible True Story is Logic's best work yet, but there's still work to be done bridging the gulf between his ambition and his ability.

The result of this endless metamorphosis--it's over an hour long--is an album that is eventually rewarding, but only to those who are determined to follow its scattered pathway to the satisfying, aggregate end.

Know-It-All is clearly the end result of Cara's vision by way of major label collaboration. So while it's a tad formulaic, it's terrifically executed and solidly produced.

For now, it's likeable despite feeling a little too aimless.

he Wainwright Sisters' voices blend together perfectly, and the melodies here are calming--almost too much so. A close listen to the lyrics, though, reveals the darker side of bedtime stories.

Green is too talented to not make a decent-sounding album, but Heart Blanche, while delivering Green's usually masterful take on gospel-influenced and pop-minded R&B, feels listless and lacks passion.

Forever may be too long to wait for Keenan's other work, but it would be wrong to say Money Shot is any less rewarding.

Fans of King Gizzard's earlier material may have trouble stomaching the bubbly nature of Paper Mâché Dream Balloon, but just as fellow Aussie psych band Tame Impala did with Currents, sometimes you simply need to take a chance and put out something unexpected--that the flutes on nearly every track end up working is just icing on this sweet cake.

A sound collage like no other, Garden of Delete finds Lopatin engaging listeners with an album that almost defies description.

[An] engaging Sold Out.

Grimes has given us a complete record that's everything pop should be in 2015: utterly uncompromising, imaginative and, somehow, universally accessible.

Replaying Under The Same Sky enough times reveals balanced interplay between heavy warehouse techno and increasingly noticeable individual craft.

It's clear that the death of his good friend and musical partner affects Kode9 on a deep level, making Nothing one of the most honest and emotionally challenging electronic releases in recent memory.

What makes his debut so appealing is that Shepherd never sounds too rigidly loyal to any genre or sound, making Elaenia a fascinating and confident debut from a tenured rookie.

Like eggnog, it's excellent in December but probably a little nauseating come January.

Although there are no real revelations on Intermission, Shigeto demonstrates yet again what he does best.

Ultimately, Wiped Out! comes off as a "see what sticks" effort; it's slick and polished, but hits varying levels of satisfaction throughout.

American Man seems to fall into the same [alt country-lite] formula, leaving little space for new ideas. They make up for that with enthusiasm and just enough grit; for those who like their country punk-y, raw and simple, American Man is a breath of fresh tobacco.

Many Moons is another deceptively simple, cohesive statement from an artist who is becoming more accomplished with each release.

EL VY succeed in telling the stories of true characters on Return To The Moon, using inventive beats and fresh indie rock structures to make their tales connect.

This is likely not an album to give their career an extra boost, but one that'll surely keep loyal fans happily on board the Rockets' ride.

Experienced as a whole, Mythologies is a satisfyingly rich tapestry woven by a band who've found their strengths and honed them accordingly.

Martin cedes more of the spotlight to Brickell than ever, his strumming always sturdily present but rarely showy.... But Brickell also brings out the best in Martin, revealing his subtlest strengths.

His rhymes are so layered and rapid that they are all but indecipherable, giving them endless rewind value. These features make Bleeds a dense, dark, demanding listen. But patient, socially conscious audiences will not only find it compelling, but galvanizing too.

While dancing to his music may prove difficult, absorbing and enjoying it in other ways is certainly very easy.

Teeming with hooks and lyrical calls to arms, The Things We Do is a unique record, one that rages with youthful vigour, but which couldn't have been made by anyone under the age of 35.

Bizarster is definitely worth a visit for Vibert fans and anyone who wants to relive some glory days, but considering the sheer size of his back catalogue, it's easy to see this one getting lost on the shelf.

While the shock has worn off for their follow-up, Deeper Than Sky makes up for the lack of surprise by being even better executed.

With Sun Leads Me On, Half Moon Run are attempting to shake the title of "that band with that song" and show off how far they have come, and for the most part, it works.

Pylon is sweet 16 for these 50-somethings, and honestly, it couldn't be sweeter; Killing Joke are still promoting the driving dynamics of post-punk, and still doing it better than the rest.

Too often, it is more than halfway boring. It isn't uninspired or weakly performed. Rather, it is boring in spite of the overwhelming bombast, the booming bass and pounding drums, the huge vocals, the wailing guitars; it is boring because rather than electrifying you, it distances and anaesthetizes.... The good news is that those songs are, most of them anyway, pretty great.

American Tragic was a mostly solitary passion project for Fortune, defined by deeply intimate confessions and burning affections that sear into the tracks both lyrically and sonically.

Preventing such weighty topics from becoming too exhausting are the upbeat instrumentals with which they've been paired.

Built on a fuzzy foundation, II is as classic as a psychedelic-stoner-rock record can be, building on well-loved tropes but never hesitant to colour outside the lines.

Times Infinity Volume One is a magnificent testament to the human heart in all of its complexity.

It's the sound of an artist operating at the peak of her powers, employing all her greatest strengths at once to create an assured, moving work that corroborates what Have One On Me already suggested: that Joanna Newsom is one of the finest songwriters of this generation.

Howl is a well-crafted structure, built on the foundation laid by its predecessors. It's certainly the pinnacle of West's career so far, and up there for electronic album highlight of year.

Thank Your Lucky Stars is definitely a treat--we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as another new Beach House album is always welcome--but arriving so soon after Depression Cherry, it is bound to get lost in the shadow of its predecessor because frankly, it isn't nearly as compelling.

It will always be a pleasure to hear Ritter's songs, to spend some time in his warm, rich universe. But he needs a new band, badly.

Around the World and Back is far from the final destination for these champions of New York pop punk/rock, but it's a definite step forward on their journey to take the world, and their genre, by storm.

Tape Loops is open and expansive, and finds Chris Walla leaving interpretation up to the listener. Is it sad? Zen? Contemplative? In any case, it's both a veiled and a starkly honest communication.

While Raury makes no secret of his influences, that doesn't mean he lacks his own distinctive style.

On As If, !!! show that they've still got ideas, leaving listeners with one of the most enjoyable, if schizophrenic, dance albums of the year.

Breaking up the band's predictable metal onslaught is the mid-tempo stomp of "Morrigan," the slow-burning "Prayer for the Afflicted" and the ballad-esque "All for Nothing." While they're each a welcome reprieve from the sameness, these moments inadvertently temper any more chaos that could have perhaps been unleashed.

On Are You Alone?, Majical Cloudz are at the height of their powers, opening themselves up fully and inviting the listener in. They sound obsessed, and "okay" be damned--it feels just right

Though not nearly as essential as their first two albums, Long Live finds Atreyu reaching higher than they have in almost a decade.

On Life, Dan Friel's beats and rhythms come off less stingy and cloaked, allowing the noise to finally meet the listener (almost) halfway.

On Fading Frontier, Deerhunter focus on their ability as a band to hypnotize and confound, which make the explosive moments here stand out that much more.

His is an askew version of experimental electronic music that is as engaging a vision as it is singular.

With a few of its tracks trimmed off, No No could have made a great EP, but as it stands, it's equal parts fun and frustration.

It's thrilling and moving to hear Lund indulge his serious side on this gorgeously forlorn new LP.

Clearly he is awash with new inspiration, and has absorbed it successfully, because it's hard to recall an artist in recent memory who has revamped their sound so boldly and successfully as City and Colour has on If I Should Go Before You.

Sore feels like the culmination of something that's been bubbling under in the city, the perfect marriage of pop craftsmanship and violent anger.

The Loud Silence finds the producer showcasing his boundless creativity while working within a self-imposed, limited framework. Once again, he's come out successful.

µ20 gives this now-classic label the classy tribute it deserves.

It's a successful return for Ms. Jackson, a grown-ass album that refuses either to pander or wallow in nostalgia.

Four Pink Walls is positioned as a warm up to her debut full length, and there's enough substance here to match and maintain expectations.

Overall, Uncovered stands up as much as you could want a cover album to; Colvin puts her own folk spin on things and keeps that sound strong throughout.

Exhausting Fire synthesizes and fuses those sounds with their more doomy roots.

That Age of Transparency feels less like the collection of singles Anxiety was and more like the cohesive, momentous artistic statement his best work always suggested he's capable of.

Their fourth and decidedly most accessible release to date.

Foam Island is a patchwork album that never ends up feeling quite settled.

After 11 tracks of lewd, enlivened and indulgent riffage, it appears time hasn't rusted the swivel and swagger of Jesse Hughes and Josh Homme; Zipper Down finds the Eagles of Death Metal as greased up and ready to rock as ever.

The material on Innocence & Decadence is everything you'd expect from a Graveyard album plus a little bit more.

There's vitality peppered throughout here, offering enough hope to momentarily forget the despair, as melodies lift the listener briefly before crashing you back down. This mercurial nature makes Arms Around A Vision a beguiling listen, one that's strangely difficult to stop listening to.

On New Bermuda, Deafheaven's myriad ideas are expertly, logically organized across five tracks. It's more proof that it's hard to hyperbolize when it comes to praising Deafheaven, a band that's nearly peerless in its ability to craft fascinating, forward-thinking aggressive music.

[The] 14 tracks feel bloated--less so, though, if one treats Honeymoon as a concept album, a 66-minute Quaalude-and-wine dream musical that spans the history of Hollywood and 20th Century cinema.

While this project will likely infiltrate the Serato of many a nightclub DJ, there's little--outside the three or four cohesive, codeine-fuelled joints surprisingly carried mostly by Future--that reaches the potential of what What a Time to Be Alive could have been.

Though the triumph of 1000 Days is its fusion of light and dark, there are some moments that feel out of place: the murky noise on instrumental "Dovetail" is a bit harrowing against the gentle acoustics on the title track, while "Little Dream," a 38-second spurt of woozy punk, appears and disappears out of nowhere.

Dropping two or three songs would be enough to turn this very good record into a brilliant one.

Rub is fun for a few listens, but it's hard to really fall in love with.

Its tendency to slip into trance-like arrangements can make b'lieve feel a bit too sleepy at times, but moments pop up just in time to pull you back.

Granted, the guitar and sax rocker "Sed Knife" stands out for the wrong reasons — it's maybe a little too clean and straightforward given the context--but after years of flirting with the fringes, Half Free hits the art-pop bullseye.

It's a bold start to another chapter in TesseracT's existence, who will only benefit from having all the pieces back in their rightful place.

Just musical enough to swallow, and just raucous enough to rattle your bones, Girl Band's Holding Hands with Jamie represents all the harmful and healing qualities of noise. It won't be long until you're hooked.

Have You In My Wilderness finds Holter narrowing her focus a little. In doing so, she gets the best of both worlds, showing off her ability to write warm and breezy pop music while maintaining the complexity, and perplexity, that made her so intriguing to begin with.

With Mayberry's recent participation in the discussion of misogyny on social media and in music, it's easy to view these songs through the lens of feminism, but it's just one of the many compelling facets of Every Open Eye's overall scope.

At its best, Adams' version of 1989 is an adoring homage to Swift's overlooked talent as a storyteller, though there are also a few key moments that fall flat without the high-gloss bombast that the originals were treated to.

Pieces like "Salamander," "Myzel" and the live tracks "Moos" and "Fichte" don't sound like classic Pole as much as they feel like classic Pole.

The one flaw is that at times Frahm allows the songs to continue for too long, losing the flow of the album--particularly between tracks 9 through 11, but later as well--but that's a small concern. Otherwise, Frahm's Late Night Tales curation is a blissful, satisfying experience.

Die-hard Windhand fans won't be disappointed by Grief's Infernal Flower, and new fans mind find it serves nicely as a jumping off point to get more familiar with the group's material. Either way, it's an excellent addition to a record collection for doom fans everywhere.

Toeing a line both musically and lyrically between the darkness and the dance floor, Days Gone By is perhaps best enjoyed in the later hours, whether you're in your own head or out of it.

All A Man Should Do is the band's first album in three years and could do with more of the tenacity that has made them crowd favourites, and less of the self-pity.

Rawlings-Welch are so good and natural in their borrowing that Nashville Obsolete evokes familiar sepia-toned moods almost without ever sounding worn-out or dated, the only exception perhaps being "Short Haired Woman Blues," on which the tempo feels sluggish.

Panic Stations is an easy and enjoyable listen, with all of the energy and dynamism that fans have come to love and expect from Motion City Soundtrack.

So There, Ben Fold's collaborative LP with yMusic (a classical sextet from New York) is poppy, ambitious and bold. Yet despite clocking in at nearly an hour--including a 20-minute-long concerto for piano and orchestra with the Nashville Symphony--the new record feels scarce on songs.

Didn't He Ramble shimmers, saunters and charms; Hansard has never sounded so good.

Patient listening toward the end of Pagans is absolutely rewarded.

More nuanced and compelling than the Watts native's underrated debut, 2011's Follow Me Home, Jay Rock's zip code-titled effort should be copped for the first Black Hippy posse cut since 2012 alone.

Artificial Dance is an extended glance at one side of Leimer's oblique sonic outlook, one which is as wonderful as it is weird.

Lyrically, the album is poignant and clever, though it does occasionally falter, as on the grungy nu-metal number "Happy Song."

Not every song on the record lives up to the anthemic nature promised in the title, but there are certainly moments of triumphant redemption and plenty of nostalgic nods to fulfill fans' understandably high expectations.