What will catch one's attention are the patterns Axel Willner creates within each song that push the record forward.

Living a dead-eyed disco dream somewhere between Nite Jewel and Chromatics, this new incarnation is dark, weird and basically awesome.

The music is alive with all the right synth-pop touchstones: lots of mournful, ersatz orchestration; creepy, disfigured melodic overlays; and muscular funk undercurrents.

All Things Unwind is a cohesive trek that leaves the listener enraptured by Worden's talent and undeniable magnetism.

While On the Water may be a slow burn, the album grows only richer upon second and third listens.

In just two very natural albums, the dudes from Ridgewood, New Jersey, have managed to ensconce the indie ethos better than anyone has in quite a while, and the time of their season is right now.

Gonzalez has crafted an admirable paean to fuzzy memories, nostalgia, melancholic rumination and pop experimentation, imploring the listener to become the stories and places that populate dreams.

While Breaks takes a few tracks to pick up traction, Bachmann's true grit comes through.

The challenging but exceedingly rewarding Biophilia is at its heart a deeply moving, mind-expanding tribute to how that most ineffable of human achievements.

[It] transcends sonic genres with a mature exploration of a global village too distracted to notice it's shorting itself.

Mayer Hawthorne's sturdy sophomore effort boasts "aw, shucks" love songs gift-wrapped in a silky Curtis Mayfield falsetto.

The result is a sophomore effort that deserves to be played loudly--and often.

Though the sultry Southern flavor his fans love him for is still very much present, Adams remains an artist who refuses to put out the same record twice-and considering his pace, that is certainly something special.

The tracks jump in range between genres, but for the most part you can find a consistent punk sound woven throughout.

Mastodon's most accessible album to date finds the ATL-iens as unfocused as ever--and out of gas.

It's the songs alone that kill you on Romantic Comedy, and that's a good thing.

Otherworldly, weird and downright gorgeous. Siouxsie oughta be proud.

The mood and music of Metals is somber and poetic-but not always quiet-finally matching the emotional excavation she's written about throughout her career.

At 74, one of American music's patriarchs sounds as sprite as ever, kicking off with a great honky-tonk anthem, the joyous title song.

Modern Art remains behind the veil, smoke and mirrors of nostalgia-not wholly accessible to audiences, modern or otherwise.

Some of the band's signature buzzsaw sound has been traded in for clever production.

In Heaven is just what you would expect to come out of a summer house in the depths of winter-dreamy and blissful, but at times lonesome and haunting.

The attempt to cross unbridgeable distances, whatever the outcome, defines The Whole Love.

Not one drop of Dracula is dance-friendly. In fact, it sounds just as disparate as the last Nurses effort.

It's straightforward, competently balanced, dewily lush art-pop, but it's also a deeply affecting, immersive treat; a fully mature return from a band acting like they have something to prove.

Every song has a beautiful sheen, with washy acoustic guitars bathing the listener in stained-glass glow.

A Creature I Don't Know takes Marling even further in her musical career than her efforts have already-and the girl's only 21.

The band proves once more that you can't get by on just clever quips and happy-go-lucky hooks. It's too bad, because these catchy compositions would be worth replaying if only they had more substance.