Broken Politics is an expansive and heartfelt collection of songs--a communication from within one of the most singular artists working today, articulating the nuances of where politics start for many: in one's day-to-day existence.

A unique, immersive and trippy release full of unusual, angular samples and disorienting beats that recalls the early days of techno with its sci-fi themes and bold, (retro-)futuristic approach.

Much like forbearer k.d. lang, Ortega just wants to be herself, and the image she's built up over her previous two albums has now fully matured on Tin Star.

This is razor sharp pop — fine-tuned, sincere and defiant as all hell.

The Montclair, New Jersey's band's sound--off-the-cuff, loose heart-on-sleeve indie-rock cut with Americana--is the perfect vessel for that kind of premature twilight, anxiety and loss. Above all else, it feels so goddamned natural.

The rub is that Cult of Luna do the 13-minute-song thing so well on their sixth album (which is about four hours long) it's scary.

Vampire Weekend have lost the carefree immediacy of some of their best-loved work; there's nothing on Only God as viscerally addictive as "A-Punk" or "This Life," and there's a prog-like complexity to these performances that's geared more toward the head than the heart. But there's also just enough stripped-down beauty — like the balladic "Capricorn," or the swooning brass outro of "The Surfer" — that Only God Was Above Us remains emotional as well as academic.

This is a well-travelled band firing on all cylinders. Enjoy it with a terrible house beer and hardworking, sweaty company.

Mnestic Pressure feels like a synthesis of electronic music's best bits woven together in an intricate pattern, expertly, as very few producers can.

The sheer breadth of styles Ishibashi incorporates might well throw the average listener for a loop, but if an exceptional talent employing any tools she sees fit to make the sounds she hears in her head excites you, The Dream My Bones Dreams contains a wealth of sonic treats worth exploring.

With For Lovers, Octo Octa has delivered a set of tracks that are not only dance-floor-ready, but deeply personal and moving, creating a listening experience that is ultimately fulfilling and one that will be urging you to revisit it more than a few times.

Enslaved have hit a sweet spot with In Times, experimenting just enough to keep everything interesting while also offering up pure aggressive pleasure so decadent it seems almost indulgent.

For those who ran out of goodwill for the band's music and antics post-Money Store, Death Grips 2.0 is worth looking into.

It's a treat to get an album that feels as real as The Starrr of the Queen of Life.

White Women is consistently fun and well-crafted, a shining example of disco's renewed relevance from a pair of musicians for whom the genre never went out of style.

There is more introspection on display than usual, especially in the lyrics, but Hallelujah The Hills have simply grown into the band they always threatened to become.

While they exceed expectations on these non-assisted tracks, De La Soul also more than hold their own against their superstar guests.

The tightly coiled rhythms and ominous moods show influences from trap to dubstep, but with around 10 years of mixtapes, remixes and other projects under his belt, the individual influences have long-simmered for a fine blend.

Teetering between organized and messy, the melodic and chaotic, Bought to Rot is what Grace considers her "Scorpio album." Presenting herself bare, she exposes unfiltered honesty through the kind plain-spokenness that's, nowadays, avoided by contemporaries of her stature.

Wu has elevated this genre and he excels at the DJ-set LP format. His ability to place artists that inspired him coming up into a more modern context is powerful. It celebrates the work and at the same time moves the rest of us to dig deeper into the history of this incredible music.

The result is one of the most eminently playable and rewarding electronic albums of 2014, and one that respectfully casts a glance backwards while sounding both indelibly contemporary and unmistakably Caribou.

While both rappers have met their match in terms of lyrical prowess and old-school ethos, the cavernous difference in their tones (Gibbs, deep and rough like a stormy sea; Curren$y, squeaky and smooth) keeps Fetti dynamic and wards of redundancy. Better still, however, are the moments when these rappers elevate the proceedings beyond street side cypher-style spitting.

Cogent and catchy all at once, I can feel you creep into my private life shows that, even amid doubt and distress, Tune-Yards can find a new way forward.

The best parts of the album, though, are the moments where it doesn't sound exactly like anything either artist has released before (songs like "My City," and closing pair "Big Black Heart" and "Dominos"), yet still shows two songwriters at the height of their talents.

Open Your Heart's greatest triumph is its ability to hearken back without feeling retro.

For years, Aesop Rock has been beloved for his ambitious, loquacious lyricism, but on The Impossible Kid, he's reached new artistic heights by using that elaborate wordplay to offer us a simple yet powerful glimpse at his scarred psyche.

Through the static and fuzz comes a clarity of sorts, that truth is oftentimes going to be something both comforting and discomforting; it's why The Future's Void serves as the perfect modern day soundtrack.

The record harnesses its emotional resources to grant the listener the sweet spectacle of watching self-awareness disintegrate as the artist wriggles free from postmodern detachment, and rediscovers that most undervalued asset: his vulnerability.