Moss uses delays and loops, multi-tracking, and other effects to greatly expand the sonic potential of these basic elements, resulting in a sound world that is laser sharp in its focus, but still expansive and dynamic.

Maya simply blows any of Frusciante's previous electronic efforts out of the water. He has somehow pulled an IDM-infused jungle record out of his backside that could easily rival any of Squarepusher's.

While musically, the tracks can sometimes bleed into each other, sounding perhaps too similar, this album is meant to be consumed in order as a whole. Birdie sets a solid foundation for Slaughter Beach, Dog's future.

If Brasstronaut's fans are willing to go along for the ride, Mean Sun will reward the patient.

The Off-Season — an earnest return to blood, sweat and ink — doesn't need much more to hit like swish.

Now with a larger band, rapid-fire lyrics don't serve the same spatial purpose they did when Graves was stomping out his own drum beat. There's a busy conversational quality to the songwriting that strict economical poetics couldn't achieve. There's not a lot of wordless space on Can't Wake Up.

Gordon has managed to create an album that pushes her legacy as an experimental force even further, another piece in a discography that refuses to be categorized. Rather than drift off quietly into the sunset, she might just be making the most interesting music of her career.

Skiptracing takes the listener on a beautifully produced and paced adventure that plays out like a soundtrack.

The rockabilly melody and Southern Gothic themes reference an era of simplicity and provocation. The Devil Makes Three's lyrical analogies in Chains Are Broken are thought provoking emotional medicine.

The album benefits from the presence of a diverse array of musicians and also showcases Veirs' talent as a singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, and Martine's skills in percussion as well as production. My Echo is not so much about emptiness as it is about how far one's sound can travel.

Total Loss is a brave effort by an artist who's clearly not afraid to show vulnerability through risk-taking and soul baring.

The Main Thing is a warm, inviting record that slots nicely into the band's catalogue, and should reward fans of the Real Estate's understated yet powerful songwriting.

Mountain Man cling to the ordinary, but are able to make it extraordinary.

Old is a post-fame album done right.

Unlike her Polaris Prize-winning 2015 record Power in the Blood, there are no love songs; Medicine Songs is unflinching in its focus.

Black Radio 2 will leave fans hungry for Black Radio 3.

Windy & Carl deliver yet another significant and sublime release that's perfect for late night listening.

With an exceptionally dismal sound, and artwork by Anthony Lucero to match, Dragged Down a Dead End Path is set to be one of the best aggressive releases of the year.

Painted Ruins is best enjoyed when you let each song carry you through its many twists and turns. And are there ever twists and turns.

More Light is not only an all-encompassing trip that shows everything they're capable of, but also the best album they've made since 2000's XTRMNTR.

While I Declare Nothing wastes no time solidifying a ruthless groove and builds on its own breathtaking walls of sound, it's album closer "Friendlies" on which Parks and Newcombe shine brightest, a four-and-a-half-minute bliss-out that could soundtrack a pro-hallucinogen PSA.

AlunaGeorge have done the impossible with Body Music: they've made the dynamic, progressive pop album we all hoped for.

With Hobo Rocket, Pond once again step out from an ever-growing shadow to prove that they are far more than anyone's "other band."

It's the danger that comes from walking that fine line [the nexus of sonic experimentation and pop hooks] that makes the album such a welcome return.

There are moments on Superchunk's inspired and inspiring Wild Loneliness where ideas of isolation and connection are pondered and addressed but any despondency is met with righteous hope and a roaring conviction that all is not lost, and goddamn do we need records like these right now.

Mechanically, the hooks that adorned Shadow of a Doubt are largely absent, though Gibbs' increased attention to melody that was displayed on the aforementioned 2015 LP remains.

No matter how harrowing King's cries become, how punitive the increasingly industrial percussion grows, or how profound the agony of the textured sound becomes, it's these little moments of silvery beauty that make No One Deserves Happiness transcendent and unbearable. Settle in and endure.

The 14 songs clock in at only 34 minutes, so Killing Time never overstays its welcome, giving you that caffeine-type pick-me-up so few indie pop albums offer these days.