Though incomplete (those final Cale sessions are an important hole) presenting them as a whole paints a fuller picture of one of the most important bands of the rock era, and forces listeners to at least briefly reimagine one of their favourite records as a wholly different beast.

Within its niche, it satisfies, but Homeboy Sandman's irrefutable skill level and work ethic deserves a bigger spotlight.

The result is one of 2014's tightest releases.

It is masterful, it is heartening and it represents today's best from an R&B/soul perspective.

Nicki is more personal, more timeless and more connected to her own artistry here, serving some of the most superlative work of her established career on The Pinkprint.

More than a dozen collaborators--including Ariel Pink, Ariel Rechtshaid and Vampire Weekend's Rostam Batmanglij--helped realize these 14 tracks, but their voices never overshadow Aitchison, who is finally given the spotlight she's rightfully earned.

While Sings Christmas Carols could provide any miserable person some relief at Christmastime, it also works nicely for anyone who loves these songs to hear someone other than Michael Bublé or Justin Bieber sing them.

While the first half of Power Of Anonymity subtly effaces any semblance of her live sets, the bottom half thankfully picks up the pace and salvages what could have been a very straightforward, if not dull, dance floor-aimed release.

He shines without any features, standing strong in his delivery and carrying his story to the forefront of the 13-track project.

Although his lyrics are as benign as ever, much of the music here doesn't just rehash what was good about the band's salad days, but bravely presents Corgan as an artist trying to stage one of the most unexpected comebacks in recent history.

This is energetic and essential listening.

A Hound at the Hem has the chance to gain the fervent cult following deserving of its hypnotizing layers of analog bass, fuzz bomb riffs, pensive organs, soaring strings, nostalgic harpsichords and a creepy lyrics.

Without ever being outshone nor outright stealing the show, Ghostface does some of his best rapping in recent years and proves he's still got it.

This is an album that's holiday-ready: safe, inoffensive, pretty grandma music.

Mr. Mitch goes full experimental, recalling the work of similarly minded artists such as Evian Christ and Shabazz Palaces, albeit in a more muted way.

The tracks are far from filler; they're a revealing look at where the band find themselves creatively at the moment.

As a whole, the album solidifies King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard as a truly ambitious band who balance classic songwriting with wild experimentation.

As an experiment in open source sharing, j US t misses the mark; instead, Faust have left the listener with an oddly listenable LP.

A Better Tomorrow never really coalesces into a satisfying whole.

Rather than phoning in the record fans expect, AC/DC made one that suits their own needs.

The London Sessions has a swanky premise, and finds Blige in an artistically intrepid mode. It's also one of her best efforts in recent years.

There's literally no other band that could handle this heady material with such confidence and ease, and Rhyton sound like they love every second of it.

The sparse "Phone Tap" tells a tale of drug dealing paranoia, while the Big K.R.I.T.-assisted "Brimstone" is a remorseful hymnal. These moments are still few and far between, and the rest of Ross' tales of pushing fall short of revealing whether his ascent to boss status is factual or purely fictional.

For the Shady diehard fans, Shady XV is enough. But for those searching for that nostalgic surge of adrenaline-inducing passion and innovative content reminiscent of the Shady reign, it's better to skip the new material and head straight to the classics.

While most of these tunes have been floating around the Internet for the past few years, it's still nice to hear them on an LP that functions as a cohesive record, even if it wasn't designed that way.

Over the course of 11 impeccable tracks, Amos delivers eerily infectious singer-songwriter fare on par with the intelligent and emotionally raw efforts of Nina Nastasia and Sun Kil Moon, but that's polished with studio savvy worthy of Califone or even mid-period Modest Mouse.

It's headphone music for sure, optimally experienced on a slow train with a glass roof so the record's atmospheric elements can aptly complement the passing stars.

Though it feels relatively safe stylistically, Archives is a very much a welcome closer to Stewart's Vapor City vision.