Mr. Beast is by far Mogwai’s most accessible album to date, teetering between epic hard rock and a melodic, driven vocal delivery.

Overall, the diversity of the production overcomes the same-ness of the verses to make Feedback worth a listen.

Their singles have always been enjoyable, and the increasing diversity and confidence exhibited on Day & Age could hint that it might not be so far fetched to expect great albums from the Killers in the future.

While some tracks are absolutely reminiscent of these lads’ former bands... Maritime comes off most like Tahiti 80 or the Postal Service, crafting lofty, affable pop concerned with pristine beauty.

At once introspective and indisputably catchy, their complex dynamic and easy likeability should certainly satiate the radio gods.

There isn’t much that Lady Sovereign did prior to Public Warning to gain the amount of respect that she attempts to command and, to some extent, she still doesn’t make it all up here. But at least this is a good start to showcase her abilities.

Nothing on Curtis is great, but everything is listenable or better.

Travellers appears top-heavy, with a mid-section whose only correlation to time travel is that its melodies could've felt predictable in the 1890s, with the limitations of straight 4/4 beginning to wear. But listeners are rewarded for not giving up after that stretch.

We’re left with a brilliant, often mesmerizing but all-too-sketchy defeatist manifesto on the surface, which, with further musical fleshing-out (Verve guitarist Simon Tong is woefully underused), might have been worth serious investigation.

Its sagging middle aside, Valende may be one of the stronger psychedelic pop releases to come my way in the last couple of years.

The Cave Singers' methods are clearer and less complicated than say, Joanna Newsom or Sufjan Stevens.

For such a tortured swarm of piercing feedback-drenched feedback and electronically-manipulated electronic manipulations, this record feels surprisingly coherent, almost to the point that it’s comforting.

Love Songs for Patriots sounds just as one would expect an aged AMC to sound: with mature, yet loose arrangements with an edge but without balls back up Eitzel’s gloomy, brooding voice, taking wry bitterness to familiar but novel highs and lows.

Supreme Balloon's vintage synthesizers and basic drumbeats make for the least sonically varied of Matmos' recent albums.

Timeless is a step up for will.i.am and a step down for Sergio Mendes, somewhere between decency and exceptionality.

It goes without saying that The New Year is an album that will draw comparisons to the Kidane brothers' previous group. The good news is that in the face of such unavoidable observations, the album easily stands up on its own.

2009's Entertainment finds the duo reverting somewhat to their more flamboyant origins while still trying to stay current. It's a divergent approach that fortunately works more for the record than against it.

Sons and Daughters stand apart from their poppier counterparts with their less-produced sound and their sturdy foundation of nothing more than a chugging rhythm section, intense vocals and that awesome mandolin.

Whereas previous efforts spawned a shrouded sadness that sought engagement by keeping a distance, this work squares its shoulders at once, fervent in its desire to have its audience lend an ear for at least a moment.

Ultimately there's so many ideas vying for attention on this album that there is not enough room for its songs to breathe. And the discordant styles, some of them on their own of much merit, never truly mesh together.

Either you’ll go nuts for this or run screaming from it.

The Age of the Understatement is weirdly epic (Nick Cave), full of harmony (Mamas and the Papas), a little charming (Robbie Williams) and dead fucking sexy (any James Bond but Timothy Dalton).

Cinematic and purposefully clumsy, coy and cutesy and sprawling in intermittence, this is music to prance to.

Mixtapes can be sloppy and scattered, but every Alchemist beat on Return of the Mac works - so well, in fact, that with a little more effort, this could have been an actual album worthy of heavy promotion and radio edits.

It sounds more like half an album than an EP. It also sounds more like half-an-album than half-assed.

Laura Burhenn just smolders over a piano-heavy groove. It really is as close to Dusty as they get, but what makes this record special is the way that even when the lyrics clunk up some of the smooth blue-eyed soul (opener and sort-of title track "What We Gained in the Fire" comes to mind), the production is so plainly gorgeous that it really feels like nitpicking (even if it really isn't).

The next album from the Most Serene Republic will be the real deal breaker, though; they'll have to define their role within Arts & Crafts either by diverging from the Broken Social Scene sound, or by mimicking it even more.