Remember Us to Life is one of Spektor's strongest records, and one that really requires repeat listens to appreciate every detail and effort.

Through loud and quiet dynamics, and incorporating minimalism, Big Brave's Vital is one of the most impactful records in the band's catalogue.

Disarm The Descent is at least twice as good as 2009's uninspired Killswitch Engage. Although it's not quite the masterful return to Alive or Just Breathing that Leach's reappearance had fans hoping for, it's still damn good.

However difficult the album may be, it's a rare pleasure to see artists who know how to make great pop songs eschewing expectations, growing beyond their previous oeuvre and audience to pursue a brave creative path into genuine 21st century music.

Nothing is off the table, influences are blended and bounced off each other, and it's this tension between elements that makes this a very special record.

Georgas gives listeners the bittersweet beauty of recalling turning seasons and turning points on All That Emotion.

To some fans, The Center Won't Hold might always be remembered as the album that convinced Sleater-Kinney's legendary drummer to leave. But really, it should be celebrated as a brave left turn, where one of indie rock's most consistent bands took a giant creative leap 25 years into their career and stuck the landing with poise.

Staples approaches the latest chapters of his story on Prima Donna in bleak fashion, his pen and delivery both as sharp as ever.

The Mael brothers also manage to keep listeners enthralled by freely jumping between modes, moving between jaunty piano songs ("Missionary Position"), cascading layered guitar burners ("Unaware") and clever melodies and bridges ("Giddy, Giddy").

Beyond its heaps of pop-rock hooks, TUNS debut full-length is a testament to the eternal power of friendship.

As compositionally complex as Eremita is, it's the hunger of the album--the elemental and animal simplicity of the tone--that gives it strength.

Like the queen of the night, it fans wide and confident; its petals may fall back to earth quickly before dawn, but its essence lingers. The same flower, transformed but unmistakably familiar, will greet eyes, though briefly, once again.

The album is perfectly suited for restless observation. It's like watching a sped-up time lapse of the tides, or nature evolving rapidly before our very eyes.

Babcock strikes the perfect blend of distress and condemnation in his vocal delivery, expressing righteous indignation at these lived realities.

As with their previous six albums, Liars find a way to both innovate and deliver a brand-loyal effort with (dis)ease.

tUnE-yArDs' bright and playful exterior might deter some, but Garbus and Brenner bask in quirk without it ever clouding the tracks' overall purposes.

Stage Four was a momentous release that found ways to musically express its heart-wrenching story. Lament feels more like Touché Amoré's essential form.

On Big Swimmer, they embrace the uncertainty of it all with refreshing stamina and poise; letting the forces at play wreak some havoc so that they may reach new ground, transformed.

Calm, cool and collected, Fresh Air is a record you'll have playing in the background while you light a candle, anticipating your lover's knock at the door--or something like that.

Other Worlds proves Bergsman has a good thing going with these inspirational voyages, leaving the listener besotted and desperate to know just where she'll head next.

Atomic perfectly captures the band's recent progressions, ornate (the strings-centered "Are You a Dancer?" and horn-heavy opening track "Ether") or otherwise, and is undoubtedly one of the most consistent albums front-to-back from Mogwai's two-decade-long career.

Much of Waltzed in From the Rumbling's success lies in Plants and Animals' ability to look both inside and outside of their musical sphere, incorporating strings, choir vocals and found sounds while possessing the insight and musical acuity to make it all feel organic.

There's a ton of wild, riotous energy to Nattesferd, but it's a little more cleanly delineated rather than roped together and blurred around the edges. It's a shake-up rather than a clear evolution, but it's a productive one.

Wolf and producer Jared Solomon (a.k.a. Solomonophonic) pack every song with laugh-out-loud lyrics and confetti blasts of squelchy synth-funk, but for all the modern bedroom pop accoutrements, Juno's greatest strengths are the raw materials of melody and lyrics.

Their best album to date, Fall Into the Sun is the sound of a band rebuilding itself one song at a time and becoming that much stronger in the process.

Throughout the album's 11 tracks and over 42 minutes of music, the quartet manage to brood their way through numerous artistic themes, from Bruegel the Elder to Samuel Beckett, running each through a Western American scope.

What brings to life the often spacious, simple melodies is Chadwick's deft storytelling. Most evocative, perhaps, are the throwaway details she uses to colour her songs with lived experience.

A distinct effort has been made to play up the sexiness of the project and, thankfully, the music lives up to that imagery.